


Stunner

by thatdragonchic



Category: The Maze Runner Series - All Media Types
Genre: Alby and Minho are good friends, Alternate Universe - High School, Angst and Humor, Coming Out, Coming of Age, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Friendship/Love, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Male Friendship, Male-Female Friendship, Newt works in a bookshop, Protective Alby, Protective Minho, Protective Newt, Well - Freeform, a lot of friendship and character development, it's more of a boarding school, most of them - Freeform, newtmas - Freeform, they all go to a fancy prep school, thomas and minho do track
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-05
Updated: 2018-08-28
Packaged: 2019-03-14 10:46:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply, Underage
Chapters: 27
Words: 110,539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13588449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatdragonchic/pseuds/thatdragonchic
Summary: "See, this was Newts secret. It was his impending dooms day of Gladesville Star Academy, one of the leading schools of America. Why? Because nobody knew. The Greenie (he's not much of a greenie anymore) came two years ago and decided Newts dorm, where Alby used to sleep, was his dorm too. The suite rules were greens get first pick and so Alby was booted across the suite. Nobody had to know really, it was personal, so he supposes. But it’s what he guesses, and maybe people finding out would be too much. End of the world as he knew it. "---An introspection on Newt's character through a series of chapters set in a modern day setting where the Glader Boys are actually suite mates at boarding School and Newt recounts how he came to fall in love with Thomas, their relationship through their last year, and his friendships with those around him.





	1. End of the World

**Author's Note:**

> I was watching The Scorch Trial for the first time because I just kept putting it off, afraid it wouldn't live up to my expectations and well, with TDC being so tragic, I have fallen in a hole and needed to fix the sadness that is 250. So that never happened, and well this happened. It's really good I think but I have no idea???? If somebody could leave me a comment telling me what they think that would be nice, or like everyone could leave comments, that would be nice ! Guys I'm so tired, I'm half asleep but like, I wasn't going to rest until I wrote this whole chapter. And I already have chapter 2 started, I just would love an opinion!!! OKay here is this lmk what y'all think

The first thing Newt thought was the boy sort of looked like Tommy, as he wraps the book and gives it a wax stamp shut, he puts the book in the bag and gives it to the bright eyed boy. Not nearly as pretty, and really sort of dull seeming. Who likes Action novels anyways? Dull and boring, predictable and pretentious. Newt likes to think Tommy is none of those things, not really. Not in commonality.

See, this was Newts secret. It was his impending dooms day of Gladesville Star Academy, one of the leading schools of America. Why? Because nobody knew. The Greenie (he's not much of a _greenie_ anymore) came two years ago and decided Newts dorm, where Alby used to sleep, was his dorm too. The suite rules were greens get first pick and so Alby was booted across the suite. Nobody had to know really, it was personal, so he supposes. But it’s what he guesses, and maybe people finding out would be too much. End of the world as he knew it.

Newt recalls that Frypan and Minho loved him almost immediately. He was quiet and reserved, most of their nights were spent in silence that stretched between them. He was pretty, in a strange kind of way. His best friend it seemed was one of the younger boys on campus and Newt recalls telling Alby how much the boy bugged him. Too quiet, too mysterious. But Thomas was liked and even Gally took fascination in him. He was…. endlessly curious. Thomas wanted to know everything, and then it's like a few minutes later he knew it. Genius.

Alby used to be his best friend. That's something that's changed. Alby and him just didn't talk like they used to, they still talk, there's just borders, walls that stand around them. Newt hasn't come out yet,he thinks 3 years ago he would have told Alby anything but that's different now. The thought makes Newts chest feel hollow.  He still tells Alby most things, but he tells Thomas everything. That's a plus to living with someone. Maybe that's why he fell for Thomas, because he knew Thomas and Thomas understood him. He's not sure though.

“Newt,” he hears someone say and looks up to see a woman standing there, shes just reading his name tag. “Wheres Rob?” Rob was his boss, Newt hates Rob.

“He's out in back,” Newt says, stepping back a bit when she shows some interest in his accent. “Down that door in that back hall there,” he continued issuing her away. He grabs some books to put back, discarded things people decided was too much or not enough. He feels that way sometimes. Like he's too much for some and not enough for others. The store is empty now, the lights dim and yellow cast, there was light but it felt dark. He files the books away, and he thinks once he's home he can lock the dorm door and crawl into Thomas’ arms. He can file today away, he can relax. Not that today was _outstandingly_ bad, everyday feels bad and his doctors say his medicine should help, he's not sure it does. Maybe he's just bloody bad at getting better. It doesn't matter.

Its ten to closing and raining hard ( _fuck that)_ , that's when Brenda comes in, and she's holding a brown bag. “I heard Alby and Winston talking. Thought you'd want something to eat.”

“Thank you,” Newt says. “What brings you round otherwise?”

Brenda didn't go to Gladesville Academy, she went to public school. That was fine, nothing was wrong with that. He just didn't really know why she had any interest in him or his friends, he thinks she's friends with Teresa. Teresa went to Public school, she came some time after Thomas did.

“I need a copy of Hamlet.”

“Readin’ it for class then?”

“Yeah have you read it?”

“S’pose its like all literature.”

“Boring?”

“Riveting. Not necessarily special but it has a certain spunk to it. Hamlet really is a bit of a different character.”

“Well I'll get back to you then.”

Newt laughs, smiling brightly but he's not much sure why. She didn't say anything inherently funny, but she laughs too and so there must be something they both missed. She offers her arms and they put the books away together. In silence mostly, only crossing paths occasionally. Something breaks downstairs, he can hear it through the floor but it's whatever. Brenda glances over and he shrugs.

“Rob,” he says shrugging unbothered.

“Right,” she replies. They've reached quite the understanding and he smiles awkwardly and she smiles genuinely. She's the last customer and he glances in the bag. It's a donut.

“Share it?” He offers and she accepts. He locks the door and they share the donut.

“So… that guy Thomas, what's up with him?”

“What on earth do you mean?”

“I dunno, in general. Whats up with him?”

“He fucking sucks sometimes.”

She nods. “All of you boys do.”

“I don't deny it.”

“You're not bad.”

“Yeah I guess you're alright too Brenda.”

They both nod. They don't really know each other, they just see each other a lot. In passing, at parties. He hates parties, but sometimes he loves them. “Thank you,” she says, raising her bag.

“Thank _you_ ,” he responds sort of pointed in that way people do when they should have said it first, when the other person really has no reason to be thanking them and their voice raises, gesturing to the donut bag before throwing it.

“I should go.”

“Good that, let me let you out.” He opens the door and soon, once the counter is clean and he's vacuumed he grabs his keys, a copy of the store keys on there too. “Rob I'm leaving!” He yells. “Robert?” No reply. Bloody bastard probably having sex, he lives there anyways, upstairs above the store, but he suppose the basement is his too. Sighing, Newt adjusts his coat and grabs his bags. He puts his headphones in, _I told you so_ by paramore playing as he walks back to campus. He puts it on repeat. Its raining hard and he's got nothing but his coat. He cards in and goes to his dorm, rushing upstairs and sighing in the warm. He throws his bags and phone on the couch, rushing to his room where Alby is putting the laundry away.

“Warm, i need something warm. A jumper?” Alby fesses one up, smiling as Newt shivers. “What is it?” He says tossing his shirt.

“Nothing, just funny because you're from London. Always rains in London, you know? But it's as if you never done seen rain before.”

“You're a bloody bloke, I've seen rain before!”

“ _Sure_ ya have. Aint it like a London boy to know rain and still complain.” Alby is joking, Alby knows Newt knows because his smirk is telling.

“Aint it like me, huh?” He teases. “Need pants, he says, looking to half soaked and sopping jeans. “Nd’ socks.”

“You walk through an ocean?”

“Its like fucking Noah's ark out there.”

“It'll be gone by morning.”

Newt takes blue joggers. “Thats Thomas’.”

“Fuck it, I'm cold and these are drier fresh. They're _warm_.”

“Take mine. Damn better than his anyway.”

Newt easily takes the pants and socks. He doesn't mind that they're Albys, they were accustomed to sharing. Alby watches him, brows furrowed a bit. Newt thinks for a moment he must know. He doesn't understand how though, but he and Alby don't talk like they used to, Alby just gets him. Newt was never a mystery to him.

“Well what is it?” He says again and Alby laughs.

“Nothing.” He goes and sits on Newts bed. His comforter was fluffy and black with a white fluffy winter blanket underneath. The pillow was a silk red cover. He takes the throw pillow with the London Eye on it, hugs it to his chest. “How was work?”

“Robert had one of those girls come in before we closed, the stupid bloke could care less about that damn store.. Brenda came by.”

“Brenda?”

“Yeah the girl from the public school.”

“At all the parties?”

“Sure yeah.”

“Whatd she want?”

“Said she heart you talking or something and came by with a donut.”

“Maybe she likes you?”

“No that's not quite right. Thomas maybe.”

“Why'd you say that?”

“She asked about him.”

Alby nods and he has that look again. “Do _you_ like Thomas?”

“What?”

“I dunno… you look at him different.”

“He's my friend, I look at you all the same.”

Newt leaves it at that, going back into the center of the suite. He hadn't been paying attention before but Minho was on the couch beside his stuff doing calculus, Frypan was cooking. He holds out a forkful of casserole to Newt and Newt eats it, humming soft. He strides to the cabinet and grabs his constellation mug, pours coffee and goes to grab the cream and sugar. He hates it black. It can be dark, almost black but never black. Succumbing to black coffee, that's like giving up your inner light, it's like hitting rock bottom. Newt likes to believe he hasn't hit rock bottom yet.

Watson was in his room, the door was open, chatter engaged the room and music drifted between dorms and Frypan was humming. Everyone was here except Thomas.

“Where's Tommy?” Newt asks, looking to Minho. Arguably, Thomas spent most of his time with Minho and Chuck, they all did track together even if Chuck was shit at it.

“He wanted to get ahead on something, went to the library to read in silence.” Newt nods. His instinct is to go to the library but he just raises his mug half heartedly.

Alby watches him with a coy squint. They settle in the room, and Newt is starting up his computer, lips on the mug and not leaving, even if he doesn't take a sip. He likes the company though.

“Everyone was there _but_ Tommy, that's why I asked,” he justified and Alby nods.

“You don't have to convince me.”

Newt looks worried, Alby pushes back his hair and smiles. “Doesn't change nothing if you like boys,” he says and Newt nods, worry melting.

“I'm not… really sure what I like yet. Maybe I'm gay I dunno.”

“You dunno?”

“I try not to think about it too much.” That was true, Newt hated labels. Well… no. He hated being labeled, the labels didn't bother him so much until thats the light people saw him. He didn't want to be depressed, he didn't want to _just_ be gay. He wanted to be more than his labels.

Minho invites himself in, before Alby can say anything. “I need help.” If Thomas was smart, Newt was smarter. Newt gestures with his head and makes room for Minho, Alby was on his phone. “So…. okay, I have no idea where to go from here.”

Newt grins and leans against Minho, looking over the problem. He leans back. “It's simple really,” he starts before explaining what goes where and what gets carried or divided or a power. Minho nods along, working through it. They fall into easy silence. Newt is opening his google docs to work on an essay, Minho is struggling through math, Alby is just on his phone, he occasionally snapchats pictures of Newt.

Newt likes to think sometimes that everything is perfectly normal, it’s times like this at home where everything feels normal, that Alby doesn’t feel so distant, and that Minho didn’t seem to fill all the spaces Alby couldn’t. It was times like this where he felt okay, and for a little while he felt totally normal. Totally at peace, even with his secret. See the distinct problem was, Thomas was pretty open about his sexuality, and so if he told anybody, they’d believe him. Everybody knew Thomas was bisexual, nobody really knew that Newt is pretty sure he’s gay. (Because really, he’s just Newt. He’s not anything, just Newt. That’s all.)

“Stop thinking so much about it,” Alby says after a moment.

“What?”

“What I said before, you’re thinking about it.”

Minho glances up and between them. That was another thing that seemed to stand between them, Minho knew everything too. Thomas trusted him with everything and a lot of the time, Newt did too. It wasn’t his fault the fuck was so easy to talk to. He just was. Newt wanted to burst out and tell them both, he wanted to tell Alby he’s sorry they’re not close like they used to be. They can’t read his mind, but sometimes he thinks Alby could.

“It’s nothing,” Newt says. “I’m not thinking about it.” Another conversation for another time.

“What did you say before?” Minho asks, Alby shrugged, he was close to Minho too, but not like Newt was. Not like Thomas was. Alby, more often than not, stood alone. He was the tall stature of fortitude, a leader in every way. Alby was admirable, and Alby was likable and Alby was great. Newt envied him, always. Sure others thought Newt to be strong and kind and generous, but Newt often saw himself to be a storm that wrecked everything in his path.

“I’m gay,” Newt says outright and even Alby seems surprised. “That’s all it is,” he says as if it’s nothing. “I just didn’t want to say anything before because it seemed stupid,” he says with this sort of bitter laugh before taking a sip of his coffee. It was too damn sweet now but he wasn’t about to stop drinking it. He had two essays to write and no time to do them before next week when they were due.

“Well shit, Newt…” Alby sounds sorry. “Didn’t mean to force it out of ya-”

They vaguely hear Frypan calling about Dinner being ready. They don’t think much of it and Newt shrugs. “You’re my best friends. You deserve to know.”

He seemed so strong to them, his locked jaw and eyes full of determination. “Doesn’t change a bloody thing and if it does I’ll whack the both of you right into England.”

They both laugh and Minho stops caressing his arm because he _believes_ Newt. Everyone believes Newt, Newt was believable. He didn’t think so because he was a storm who wrecked everything but sometimes he was just drizzle on the patio and things seemed okay. He wasn’t really sure if he was okay, right now. He just wants to crawl into bed, or maybe Thomas’ arms.

“You’re just Newt,” Alby says. “Doesn’t change anything.”

Newt nods, and he thinks maybe he’s closer to Alby than he makes himself out to be. Maybe things will be okay. “Let’s go eat,” Minho says after a minute.

“Yeah, let’s eat,” Newt agrees and Minho leaves his books behind in a hurry, Newt takes a minute. Alby stops him, “Is there anything else?”

“What?”

“Is there anything _else_?” And he doesn’t really know what else is, but Newt shrugs.

“Sometimes I feel like we’re not… that close anymore.”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t know, sometimes I just feel like we’re always off doing other things and our lives don’t cross. Like we’ve put walls up.”

“It’s not intentional Newt.”

“You’re sure?”

“I’m sure, you need me you call and I don’t care who I’m with, I’m by your side. It was always me and you, leaders of the pack right?”

“Right,” Newt says and Alby hugs him tight and Newt hugs him back.

“I think you should take your meds.”

Newt agrees, because it’s about that time to take them anyways. And who is he to tell them he doesn’t think they work, they probably work fine enough to get him going most days and that is all he needs.

\---

Thomas comes home late, and Newt is well passed done with coffee and they’ve all eaten dinner. Newt has his earbuds in and since everybody else is asleep he doesn’t noticed the figure in the dark, corner of the room. He startles when Thomas puts his bag down, taking his headphones out.

“You’re home awfully late,” Newt notes.

“Yeah sorry… I was reading all about this ancient city and I kept saying I was just going to get to this page in the book then this page but I read the whole book.”

Newt laughs and Thomas sits at the edge of the bed and kisses him, soft and quick. Too quick if you ask Newt. “I’m working on my essay. I’m not sure if it makes sense at all.”

“You should sleep.”

“Probably but I have to finish.”

“You have time.”

“I don’t.”

“You do. Do it when nobody is in the store.”

“Rob won’t like that.”

“Rob doesn’t pay that much attention.”

“I suppose.”

“You have computers.”

“You’re right.”

“So do it tomorrow.”

Newt nods, and he tugs on Thomas’ arm, kissing him once more. “I missed you,” he admits quietly.

“I missed you too,” Thomas says smiling.

“I told Alby and Minho.”

“Told them what?”

“That I’m gay.”

Thomas nods thoughtfully and he takes Newt’s laptop to close it. “Good,” he says softly, and Newt can tell he’s tired. Thomas was often a thinker over a speaker and well, Newt never minded, and he could tell Thomas had good intentions. “I’m going to shower, get some sleep.”

“Sure.” Newt nods. He could tell Thomas about Brenda tomorrow and Newt waits until Thomas is in the bathroom of the suit before he relaxes in bed, just thinking. Uncertain yet very certain. Everything seemed right and wrong. But he was just Newt and that was really quite okay, and Alby was still his best friend, and that felt okay too. He thinks he can sleep with at least some peace of mind, he doesn’t have to fight with himself tonight and that was quite okay.


	2. Run, Tommy, Run

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Newt can't sleep and he's up most of the night wandering the track outside. He recalls, distinctly, an afternoon spent with Minho, the first time that he saw Thomas run, and he comes home to a romantic moment with Thomas.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really like the contemporary style of this and I hope you guys enjoy the story too!

Sleeping came hard to him and so he sits up and pulls on his red and yellow windbreaker. Newt pulls on a pair of jeans too, doing his best not to make a sound. He puts on his high tops, and he treads outside to the track. It’s drizzling and it’s dark, the lights along the school yard giving a dim and vague sense of the world. Anybody could be lurking but Newt doesn’t think too much about the shadows in the dark. Being on the track was comforting in a way, it’s a place where he got to know Minho, and later on Thomas.

He remembers the first time Thomas stepped on the track. It was about this time two years ago and Minho was trying out for Varsity for the first time. He was the fastest runner the Track team had ever seen and because of it, he made the track team better, he gave those kids competition but nobody ever amounted to him. He ran faster than everybody else. He was sure to get on and sure some of the others too. Thomas was still very new, it’d only been a month into the semester and well, nobody really knew much about him. Minho once noted that Thomas looked like a runner and they all shrugged. Guess he was a runner afterall.

The race starts and Thomas starts out in the center but soon enough he’s leading the pack. The boy was built to run and Newt felt something shift between his lungs, the air inside him stopped working and he never really knew why. It was just _amazing_ and they all stared awestruck. Minho pushed and struggled but he was no match, he was always a few paces behind Thomas and that was so wild. Newt almost wanted to hate him for smoking Minho but afterwards Minho seemed thrilled. Finally! Real competition! Newt came up laughing, patting him on the back.

“Tommy! You damn near stole the wind out of me!” Newt proclaims, patting him on the back and him and Minho are beaming.

“That was amazing! How did you learn to run so fast?”

Thomas seems confused at their astonishment and encouragement. “Just a talent I guess,” he says and the two laugh.

“You’re kidding that was stunner, Tommy.” He and Thomas exchanged a look and it was the first time the two had any sort of understanding of each other. “It was absolutely stunner,” Newt told him, softer this time, more certain of his words and Thomas smiled. He wasn’t as pretty then as he is now, but it was nice nonetheless.

“He’s right, you were great. You’ve gotta give me your tricks.”

“Gladly Minho.”

That was also the start to a great friendship between Thomas and Minho. Newt looks fondly on the day as he stands in the middle of the track now, staring up at the sky, rain drizzling down softly. The sun was starting to make an appearance, the sky a tad lighter if you were ever one to pay attention to that sort of thing. The clouds make it hard to tell but it was true, the sky was not so dark anymore, even if the shift was very subtle. He keeps walking, just around the track. Each step holds memories, the earth is cold and dreary, Gladesville had seen better days. Looking at the trees it reminds him of his home in London, trees that moped about and breathed the life and toxicity of city air. Home was warm with his mother's kisses and his sisters laughter. Home was his father taking business calls before dinner with lazy sun dripping like honey on the porch- he always seemed so golden then and his mother so happy, illuminated from the light in the window. He misses home.

The track was saturated with rain, and it had a fresh scent. It was not quiet like it was when it snowed, rather it was saturated. He could hear the rolling of cars somewhere in the distance on the roads, people who were up and moving like him. Some perhaps the insomniacs of the world. He wishes he'd had his car, so he could go driving but after getting his American license he got his English one too, over the summer, and his parents had gifted him a car. He wonders if he'll ever move back, go to Oxford like his father or maybe he won't. He's supposed to be applying this month, and life feels detached, like he isn't really leaving Gladesville in 9 months time.

Slowly treading off the track he steps into the gushing, muddy dirt of the woods and wishes he wore his boots. He remembers a time two springs ago he came to the woods with Minho, just to fuck around. They had stepped into much fresher dirt, soft and loose, not packed with rain. They walked down the path made by god knows who, Minho leading the way. It was after class, Minho didn't have track and Newt wasn't working yet. There was no ulterior motive, no set adventure. They were just running, running from life and hiking in the woods. The air was clean and fresh, the birds sang sweet song. There was a longing of distant past in Newts chest, like an explorer stepping on new land for the first time. They trekked quietly, Minho acquires a stick. After some time Newt does too.

Newt walks past the trees that dip into lost past and childhood. At 15, he didn't think he was much of a child. Now at almost 18, he looks back on himself to be much younger then. They were childlike. He remembers Minho chasing him with the stick, the two rushing through the brush and fighting with sticks, throwing leaves. They fell into the currents of a river they didn't know what was there and it was okay. There and then it was okay, as they splashed each other, laughing. A log not far downstream was perfectly positioned across the river, they had climbed up and lay there, water flowing underneath them. It held a lot of power.. Newt lays there now, letting the rain pad onto his windbreaker, the wet wood soak his jeans. He thinks that this is the moment Minho really began to fill the spaces that Alby couldn’t. When he and Minho became the best of friends. He wishes Minho was laying opposite of him now, their heads touching by the ends of their hair.

_“What do you think of Thomas?” Minho asks._

_“I think he's a spy,” Newt teases. “Too quiet.”_

_Minho laughs and it fills Newts lungs as he laughs too. “I think he's going to be an olympian or something.”_

_“A_ God _or something.”_

_“A god or something,” Minho repeats grinning as they watch the clouds. “I hate that we all go home over the summer.”_

_“Why's that?”_

_“I miss you,” Minho admits and Newt smiles._

_“I miss you too, you bloody fuck.” He pauses, they both do._

_“Nice when you're happy like this,” Minho admits. They never talk about what happened at the end of last year._

_“Doctors said my depression should pass eventually. Teenage hormones or something.”_

_“That's good.”_

_They fall quiet for a bit and Newt watches the clouds drifting over them._

The world blinks back to him as water droplet lashes open, the skies weren’t blue and the clouds were everywhere  and he hears the geese starting to make an appearance. They must be squawking to find coverage. He wishes that the clouds were there, but they only exist behind his eyelids now, blue and freeing. Not grey and downcast.

He forgot his phone, he doesn't know what time it is. He wishes it was spring, he wishes he was 15, he wishes Minho was there with him. He wishes he couldn't imagine himself drowning in the current so vividly. He wishes he didn’t feel like he could slip at any moment as he crawled back across the log and onto the slippery mud shore. His shoes are dirty, he’ll clean them later.

He eventually makes it back to the dorm, entering where everybody was moping around. Winston was making coffee, Aris was eating cereal. Ben and Frypan’s door was still shut. Alby was stretching by the window, Thomas was fast asleep, the door was still ajar. Newt smiles soft and nods good morning. They all sort of look at him perplexed. Newt was once again soaked. He glances at the clock, it was about 5.25.

“I couldn’t sleep,” he says, shrugging. “Suppose I’m still adjusting from London.” that was a lie. He knew it, Alby knew it, the rest couldn’t really care much. Gally was in the bathroom, brushing his teeth or showering or whatever. Newt toes off his shoes, wipes them down and goes back to his room, shutting the door and locking it, he doesn’t go to his bed but crawls in beside Thomas who shifts to invite whatever body had joined him. Newt laces their fingers and kisses his cheek. “Wake up, it’s bout 5.30 AM and if you don’t get up you’ll miss your morning run.”

That reminded him of Minho, he supposed Minho was sleeping too. Minho loved sleeping. Thomas shifts and presses his face to Newts shoulder. He smiles softly. “Well get along now, no sleep for the wicked or the damned.”

“I’m not wicked,” Thomas mumbles. Newt gasps, as if surprised.

“He lives!” he whispers excited and he can feel Thomas’ annoyance. “Say you come back around six thirty and I’ve no clothes on?” That catches Thomas’ attention and Newt laughs quietly, head tipping back. They were hardly making any noise but their happiness felt deafening. Or at least his happiness did. “You'll never find out unless you go.”

“Say I just get my cardio in now?”

“That's the point,” Newt says confused and Thomas smiles softly at his innocence, kissing his neck, hand on his thigh.

“Not that kind of Cardio Newt..”

Newt blushes but he understood now. The thing was they've never really _done it_ , like _it_ it and Newt thinks using your hands is easy, but going all the way is different. It causes you to notice certain things about that person, little _sexual_ things you didn't notice before. He sometimes still notices those things, how his ass curves in his pants, the way his shoulders move under his shirt but it’s not all the time, it’s not constant and it’s not desperate. He thinks sex will change that, that they’ll be a lot more than innocent lovers. He’s not sure if he’s ready to notice all those things, to confront all that emotion. The emotion that comes with a sex life, the intense trust he believes it takes.  

He whacks Thomas’ chest. “Then later you'll be all mopey about not having run. Can't have all that energy stuck in your bones.”

Thomas kisses him, Newt melts. “Can't leave bed if you're here.” Newt smiles and lets Thomas kiss him again.

Newt pushes him away playfully. “You can climb over me I'm comfortable.”

“Why are you wet?”

“I was outside.”

“Couldn't sleep again?”

“You know how it gets… I think too much. I think too much about everything. Walking helps.”

“I know,” Thomas whispers and he likes that Thomas just seems to get him. That he understood even when it was hard for him. “Aren't you tired?”

“I'll be okay.”

“Newt… maybe you should sleep in today. You never miss class anyways, one time won't hurt.”

“I can't you know that.”

“One day doesn't hurt. You push yourself too hard.”

Newt shrugs, grabbing his cigarettes from the night stand. Thomas stops him and kisses him, hand on Newts neck. Newt melts into him.

“I'll be okay, better I go you know?”

Thomas nods before snatching the cigarettes and climbing over Newt. “No smokes in the morning.”

Newt nods, relaxing in the bed, hugging Thomas’ pillow. He wears his running clothes, he's bundled up. Newt smiles, and Thomas smiles when he notices him. “What?”

“Nothing you're just a bloody beautiful bastard.”

Thomas laughs. “So sweet.”

“Do my best,” he says, reaching a hand towards Thomas and Thomas takes it and kisses his knuckle. “Well, Run Tommy Run,” he teases and Thomas laughs, the two kissing before Thomas leaves, Newt left warm with the feeling of Thomas’ lips pressed to his, sweet and closed mouth, full of sweet promises. Of _see you later_ and _I'll get home safe_. Newt hugs Thomas’ pillow, he thinks of staying home as suggested, of succumbing to his depression for the day. He couldn’t, he knows that.

Newt had rules.

**These are the Rules Newt follows on a daily basis:**

 

  1. ****Never Drink your coffee black that's when you've hit rock bottom****
  2. **Never shower cold, that's when you've gone numb**
  3. **One day off means letting yourself give up. You let the darkness win, you'll never want to get up again**
  4. **Don't punch rob in his stupid gut, that's how you get fired.**
  5. **Dont be reckless, check your temper. Reckless and angry doesn't solve it**
  6. **Don't for a second believe you are alone. Don't forget who's important to you. Alby, Minho, Frypan (** ** _and Thomas too)_**
  7. **Mom and Dad are waiting at home. Giving up is letting them down, don't give up.**



 

Now see it's not that some of these were true, not for all people, they were just true for Newt. When Newt was a freshman the darkness built up very quickly, it started with liking his coffee black. No sugar and no cream. It just tasted better bitter. Nothing mattered to him anymore, he felt lonely, like he had no friends. All the people he had and it felt like there was _nobody_. He became reckless, drinking, drugs, getting angry and irritated and upset without real reason. Then he started to shower cold, because it didn't really matter to him. He'd just let the water be whatever temperature it fell on, too hot or too cold he rarely felt it sometimes. This all lead to the incident, it happened in early spring before spring break Newt doesn't like to talk much of it. Or think of it.

He trudges out of bed and puts on new pants, this time their his joggers and he's comfortable, he goes to the kitchen for coffee and Minho is up now.

“You okay?” He whispers, pouring Newt’s coffee.

Newt nods. “Just one of those days.”

“Stay home,” Alby says.

“That's against the rules,” Newt says. Alby knew about the rules, he didn't know about the incident. Only Minho knew.

“I have no absences,” Minho said. “I'll call us out sick to the attendance hall.”

“No,” Newt says firmly, grabbing the cream and sugar. He stops and grabs his pill bottle, sat on top of the microwave. He takes his required 2. “If it really gets bad, I'll tell you guys.”

It wasn't bad, he just wanted to curl up and _forget_. Curl up and do nothing. That's when Chuck comes in, he's the kid Thomas befriended, he was also on the track team. He hardly ever knocks, he likes to play games. He used to be a chubby thing but he's grown taller, a bit thinner.

“Mornin,” he greets, sitting on the counter.

“Morning,” Minho says, bracing his hands on chucks shoulders. “Up bright and early?”

“No I'm obviously still sleeping. What do you think-”

“Well I know you're not going to curse,” Newt chides. “Nobody likes a potty mouth, Chuck.”

Chuck scowls and that makes Newt smile.

“You're not my dad.”

“Would you like me to tell your dad.”

“ _Newt_ he’d kill me!”

“Then can your filth, yanki,” Newt says which makes Minho snort.

“That's civil war terminology,” Alby says.

“What do you want me to call you lot then? Statesmen? Militiamen? Tea throwers?”

Chuck was giggling, Newt smirked just slightly and Alby sighed exasperated.

“Excuse us King George.”

“I'm glad we recognize I'm a king.”

He raises his brows, Alby raises them back. Chuck sighs but its only teasing. Minho laughs because Minho always felt similar to light over darkness, he brought out the best in things, even the little things. Newt wonders how he got lucky to have such a good core group of friends.

“It’s still early, why is everyone awake?” Frypan complains, rubbing his eyes, knocking on the bathroom door as he reaches it. “Gally get _out_! Well unless you want me to pee in your garbage can in your room I suggest you do!”

They shake their heads, and Chuck makes a face. “Is Thomas up?”

“You just missed him actually,” Newt says and Alby has this look of knowing, Minho pointedly ignores it. It was none of their business, if you ask him.

“He went on his run.”

“Crazy fuck,” Chuck mutters.

“Hey!” The three  older boys yell, alarming Chuck.

“Sorry!”

\---

Newt texts his parents every morning, just that he was fine and he hopes they have a lovely day. His mother always texts him back around 10 AM and well, that was enough for Newt. He doesn’t tell her how little he sleeps some nights and he has yet to tell them about Thomas or his sexuality. He is always terrified of disappointing them. Always. It’s enough he has to see his psychologist every six months and take medication, it’s enough they have to know about the incident 3 springs ago. He hates that they even knew, how little they actually knew. The doctors said it was a rash act of recklessness, they didn’t tell them what had actually happened. Newt didn’t really tell them either, Minho never mentioned it.

He’s just entering maths as he texts his mother about his grades and that everything is fine, his father makes a joke, everything on the surface is okay. They are fine. He misses them but he thinks if he lived at home he would hate them, it’s too much. Too much pressure, too much to have to face them as a disappointment. He doesn’t think of expressing this even when Thomas sits beside him, he smiles up at him and shares his father's joke.

“They think I’m a proper American,” he says.

“You fit in pretty well, sometimes you can’t even tell you have an accent,” Thomas teases and Newt makes a face.

“That’s no good,” he says.

“Hey for lunch you want to go grab coffee off campus?”

Newt nods. “That sounds lovely.”

Teresa sits in front of them, that’s where she always sits, in front of Thomas. He hates it. But he never tells her that either. Or Thomas for that matter. Thomas doesn’t pay attention to her and Newt is thankful for that. “Are you working later?”

“No Rob gave me off to train the new person, whoever that is. Texted me this morning, he’s decided he doesn’t need me tonight. I might actually have a coworker,” he says and shrugs. “Who knows, maybe we’ll never be scheduled together.”

“So you’ll come watch Track practice?”

“Don’t see why not.”

“And then you can finish your essay.”

“Probably,” Newt says, distracted by his parents texts to him. He glances up and they exchange a brief smile. “My parents are set that I’m going to oxford like my father.”

“Do you want to?”

“I don’t know. I have no bloody idea where I want to go. I just know I want to work with children, like a pediatrician or something.”

“But they don’t want that?”

“God knows what they want. I can stand them on breaks but sometimes they’re so overbearing. Suppose it’s because they don’t see me much and I guess they hope that if I go to Oxford I’ll be around more.”

“They love you.”

“And I love them.”

“I’d miss you though, if you went to Oxford.”

“Well why’s it make a difference? I’ll just take you with me,” Newt says. “We can be like those boys in period dramas who strut the halls of their fancy colleges with their collars popped or something.”

Thomas laughs at that. “Like… what’s that show you like that you say is so Posh?”

“Downton? Bloody hell, Downton has nothing to do with that! Downton is a true masterpiece. Really makes you feel luxurious, although it does have some outstanding issues, it’s really quite well done.”

“Are you two done?” Teresa asks, cutting in and Thomas raises a brow. “I have a question on the homework and you two are the only ones who ever know what’s going on in this class.”

“Well what is it?” Newt asks, Thomas leaning over to glance at her homework.

“Number four.”

“Oh we spent all of lunch debating four.”

“And?”

“Well, it’s simple, here look at my notes,” Newt says. Thomas was smart but he just did the work and it always looked sort of messy. Newt did the work with colored pens and notes and demonstrations. He taught himself and understood, so she accepts because Newt was reliable. The teacher comes in and Teresa hands the notebook back before she can really get the answer. Newt sends them as pictures and she smiles, he smiles back. Thomas is focused on getting his stuff together.

_Mom: And Darling? If anything is ever wrong, I’m here. I love you. I know we don’t talk much about it, what’s wrong with you I mean, but perhaps that’s where I failed you most. It’s okay, that you’re sick. We keep it private because we don’t want it to haunt you, the doctors said you’ll grow out of it. People keep saying that all you kids are the same, moody and upset and whatever it is but if you really feel like it’s not worth it, like you have nothing, well know that you always have me. Okay?_

_Newt: Of course, ilysm I’ll call you after school._


	3. Swinging Party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Newt and Thomas go out for coffee, Gally and Newt chat before class, Newt feels his demons surface and his happiness quickly bury itself in the sand. We also explore Newt's relationship with Alby with a flashback to their first meeting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is a little different I think but also i'm really tired and I've been staring at my computer screen for like 3 hours now so idk maybe it's not but it's good all the same I think? I really do like Newt's character and writing him feels natural to me so I hope I'm doing a good job

Thomas has Newt pressed to the door, languid, wet kisses press to his mouth. Slow and loving and soft. Newt is willing, he's putty in Thomas’ hands, arms casually slung over Thomas shoulders, one hand perched in his hair, the other along the back of his neck. Thomas strays to Newts exposed neck, kissing the supple, milky skin there. Newt sighs, his breath a little labored, the pleasure not desperate but sinking.

“Coffee..” he manages to mumble. “We were gonna-” his breath hitches as Thomas bites on a sensitive spot near his shoulder. He didn't care if he bruised really. They didn't have rules other than nobody can know.

“We can get coffee,” Thomas agrees once he's done creating a cluster of yellow bruises.

“It was your idea,” Newt mumbles and Thomas grins lazily.

“Are you up to leaving? It's raining still…”

“I'll go anywhere with you.”

“I can't kiss you at the coffee shop…”

Newt leans in, kissing Thomas soundly, hands cupping his face as he does. They part, just barely. “Soon you will…” he sounds sure of it. “Promise.”

Thomas nods, pulling away and grabbing his wallet, Newt sinking into the wood of the door, just watching him. “We could tell them,” he says after a moment. “If you really wanted to.”

“I don’t really want to,” Thomas admits, gesturing at the door that Newt was leaning on and Newt hums as if he’s thinking.

“Last kiss? Just for the road,” he offers and Thomas pulls him into a bruising, breathtaking kiss. Newt can hardly keep his laughter contained, the two giving small pecks between giggles before Newt kisses him proper. Newt parts head tilting back. “Why don’t you want to?”

“Because you’re the best secret,” Thomas says and Newt gives him a sharp look but there’s a glint behind it that makes Thomas grin.

“Bloody inspired weren’t you? Well go on, tell me all your favorite things about me.”

Thomas nudges him in the ribs, where Newt is ticklish and Newt bursts into giggles. He can’t help it. “That’s my favorite thing, how you smile. My other favorite thing is actually making it to our dates instead of staying in our room.”

“It’s only been five minutes,” Newt says.

“Five minutes since I stopped kissing you.”

“And like fifteen minutes since we got to the room, we still have some time.”

“Yes but we’ll have none if we stay here.”

Newt nods as if it’s a tragic thing really, that they might just stay in this room but Thomas turns him around they walk out, Newt’s hands carding through his own hair. Gally is sitting on the couch, mixing the mac n cheese he heated up, glancing between them. “What’s up with you two fucks?”

“Nothing,” Newt says, raising an eyebrow. He wouldn’t admit it but he really does quite like Gally, just Gally doesn’t quite like Thomas all the time but really, Gally was trying. He loved people, he was just hard of heart (and head a lot of the time) and well Thomas was stubborn as one could be. “What’s up with _you_?”

“Nothing,” Gally says perplexed.

Newt nods and Gally nods too, but he has no idea why and Thomas just is confused. “Getting coffee, want anything?”

“Uhm… No? maybe. I’ll text you.”

“Good that.” Newt grabs his windbreaker and they head out, hands brushing but not lacing. Newt wants to hold Thomas’ hand, but they both restrain. “Bye!” He calls and Gally waves, sort of confused as to what had happened, or why the two seemed so smug with each other or why Newt seemed so awkward. Why was this awkward? Gally didn’t quite know.

“What was that?” Thomas asks, still confused.

“What?”

“That felt weird.”

“I dunno, I was just diverting him from asking questions.”

“So you confused us?”

“Jack of all trades, a true expert at diverting what is unknown and unpredictable,” Newt teases and Thomas scoffs.

“ _Okay_ if you say so.”

\--

Kids from school were at the nearest cafe, Teresa included and Newt didn’t like how she kept looking at Thomas. Though Brenda was with her and they exchanged tense smiles. He wonders where this is going, his whole conversation with Brenda. She wasn’t really his friend, not before and not really now either.

“Did I tell you Brenda came to see me?” Newt asks and Thomas looks at him confused. “At work, she came with a donut.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah we talked, she helped me put the books people didn’t want back. Asked about you.”

“What did she say?”

“Wanted to know what was up with you.”

“What?”

Newt shrugs. “I said you fucking suck sometimes.”

“Do I?”

“Only sometimes.”

“Such as…?”

“Last night when you didn’t come home until 12.15, two weeks ago when you worked out too long and worried me shitless because I thought you’d really pushed yourself over and would need an ambulance. There was that one time you almost broke your ankle but somehow came out unscathed. Also there was that one time in the car-”

“That wasn’t my fault!”

“We almost died!”

“But we’re okay now, aren’t we?”

Newt nods. “Fine okay but it still happened and I really hated you in that moment.”

Thomas shrugs sheepishly and Newt smiles, his heart feels like it’s exploding out of his chest. He doesn’t really know what this deep, coiling happiness is or why he feels like the world has tilted off its axis or why all he sees around Thomas is screaming color, the brightest lights. Newt presses his lips together, he lets Thomas order first and then orders coffee for himself. They grab a table and wait for their mugs to be delivered, Newt looking outside at the drizzling rain. Slowly eroding away at the world and it’s tilted ways.

Teresa was looking at Thomas and Brenda was looking between the two of them. “I feel like everybody just knows,” Newt whispers and Thomas tilts his head.

“I think you’re paranoid about it.”

“Probably.”

“It’s fine.”

He nods.

“Maybe Brenda likes you.”

Newt raises a brow. “Really?”

“Sure, you’re likable.”

Newt snorts and shakes his head, watching the world outside the glass. It felt so distant, yet it was right there. He looks to Thomas and raises a brow. “College applications are soon,” he says casually.

“Yeah they are. I started a couple.”

Newt nods, looking at his hands, fidgeting with them. “What do we do then?”

“What do you mean?”

“When we’ve gone off the college, and all that. What happens then?”

“Well… We could go together or something.”

“Maybe… My parents expect me to go to Oxford I think but I don’t fancy it much.”

“You don’t fancy _Oxford_?”

“No not really.”

“Why?”

He shrugs. “I don’t know exactly what I want to do yet but I want to do something scientific, I want to make a difference and well… Oxford feels too posh. They’re the doctors with their noses snubbed. I don’t want to be that guy, I don’t want to be superficial. I don’t want to live a stocker broker life, with drugs and lovers and big houses and corrupt anecdotes. I want to be the good guy, I want to help make a change.”

“Oxford doesn’t turn people into that.”

“You’d be surprised.”

“You don’t have to go there. You don’t even have to go to Harvard or Yale.”

“What a bloody disappointment I’d be if I didn’t,” Newt says passively but it held some truth, it held some merit. In America, college was sort of different in that at least people knew of the big, non prestige colleges. But who of the Elite of London would give a bloody fuck if he went to Rutgers or if he went to UMaine or something of the sort. Meanwhile the sons and daughters of all those snobbish people with lots of money sent their sons to the schools they thought he couldn’t get into .

“You’re not a disappointment,” Thomas says. “I’ll run for Yale and you run the science department.”

Newt laughs. “Deal.” He feels so forced though, it doesn’t feel funny, it doesn’t feel light hearted. He feels like his life has weighed his shoulders and forced him to his knees. He feels heavy hearted but he smiles, for Thomas.

\---

Newt brings Gally coffee and sits beside him in their lecture hall. Gally looks to Newt and blinks. “You know,” Gally starts and Newt looks over at him perplexed. “I think we should all just watch Downton with you this weekend instead of you recording it because I’m getting sick of all the stuff on the DVR. I can’t find any of _my_ shows.”

“So that’s who’s been deleting my episodes,” Newt says with clarity. Gally sips his coffee.

“Maybe it was Thomas.”

“Thomas can get a stick up the ass if it was.”

Gally laughs. “Thomas can get one any day of the week from me.”

“Gally!” Newt says laughing. “Dirty dirty _dirty!_ You’ve got the hots for Thomas you bloody bastard!”

“What? No! I didn’t mean it like that!”

“Oh that’s rich,” Newt says as if he’s just acquired the most treasured information. “Thats bloody rich, I won’t ever let that down.”

“I don’t have the hots for Thomas.”

“Tell me Gally, do you dream about him?”

“My _god_ would you stop?”

“Gally and Thomas sitting in a tree f-u-c-k-i-n-g.”

“I hate it. I hate _you_.”

Newt seemed pleased with himself, nudging him. “Unbelievable. I never would have thought,” he concludes quietly as if it’s self revelation and Gally looks at him defeated and Newt tilts his head, looking at him sincerely. “It’s okay Gally. I’ll throw a little date night for the two of you. We’ll watch the Lion King, equal parts love and angst and musical song and dance.”

“You won’t.”

“I will…” He pauses. “On Downton night.”

“Shit that’s serious.”

Newt nods. “Instead of kicking you all out-” which Newt does, every week when he’s settled to watch his show, mind you. “I’ll just invite you all to a movie night, and I’ll stick you next to him.”

“Please no.”

“What? Afraid you’ll kiss him?”

“Why don’t you kiss him instead. You two get along enough.”

Newt shrugs. “I’m not the one secretly in love with him.”

Gally is about to rebuttal when their lecturer walks in, the class was mostly about literature and the mirror it held to the modern world. Newt didn’t mind. Though today he worked on making a list. He felt like the world was sinking underneath all the interactions, all the things people couldn’t see were the anchors in his chest that grounded him to the bottom of a very desperate ocean. There were only monsters there. Demons and nasty things.

**Good things in the world**

 

  1. ****Thomas****
  2. **Minho**
  3. **Alby**
  4. **Chuck (sometimes)**
  5. **Coffee**
  6. **Strawberries**
  7. **Dogs**
  8. **Mom (occasionally)**
  9. **Hayley Williams**
  10. **Zendaya isn’t bad either**
  11. **That TV show about the kids in the 80s that I just started watching**
  12. **Thomas**
  13. **Thomas**
  14. **Thomas**
  15. **Kissing is okay too**
  16. **Cats**
  17. **All cats**
  18. **Kittens**
  19. **When Henry Met Sally**
  20. **How I met your Mother**
  21. **F.R.I.E.N.D.S**
  22. **Not drowning in the river this morning**
  23. **Rain is good too**
  24. ~~**Brenda is okay**~~
  25. **The way the leaves fall in the spring**
  26. **The excitement that comes with Halloween**
  27. **Halloween is good**



 

 

Newt looks over his list and he tries to find something good about his life, he tries to remember the good things. That was an unspoken rule, looking for the good in things when his chest felt heavy. He couldn’t help but think about what he and Thomas talked about, going to Yale together. Does he want that? Is that what he wants? He isn’t sure, he isn’t really sure of much right now. He just wants the voices to stop, and he for a second can imagine the water rushing into his lungs, the painful need for air. Gally moves and Newt releases the breath he didn’t realize he was holding, for a moment he looks painfully aware of the world, and he can hear their teacher with clarity, even if he was sitting near the top of the lecture hall seats. He puts a headphone in, tuning out the world.

 _Swinging Party_ by Lorde and Newt sinks into his chair eyes turned up to the ceiling for a while. _Bring your own lampshade somewhere there’s a party here it’s never ending can’t remember where it started. Pass around the lampshade there’ll be plenty enough room in jail. If being wrong’s a crime I’m serving forever. If being strong’s your kind then I can help you with this feather._

He switches the song, because he feels overwhelmed. Newt just wants to cry, did he take his medicine this morning? He misses his bed. He wishes he had stayed there, Thomas’ offer feels like it was weeks ago, when he suggested that Newt stay home. He wishes he had taken off with Minho, that he had stayed in bed, that he had curled up under the water of the shower instead of going on the track. That way, at least, he didn’t have to think about rushing under the water of the currents. It’d be like bridge to terabithia. _If being wrong’s a crime I’m serving forever if being wrong’s a crime I’m serving forever_ it’s stuck in his head now and he wants it to stop. He hates that he has nobody to talk to in this moment, that he’s stuck in the room.

The bell rings and he stuffs his things in his bag and pushes past the crowds, going to the bathroom and locking himself in a stall. He just needs to breathe, he just needs to breathe. The door open and somebody knocks. “It’s Minho.”

Newt says nothing.

“I say you rush in here, are you okay?”

“I don’t know why it happens like this sometimes.”

“What?”

“One second I’m happy, the next I feel like the world is ending.”

“I don’t know.”

“I don’t either.”

“Why does the world feel like it’s ending?”

“I don’t know. I was joking with Gally, everything was fine, and then class starts and the room is quiet and all I can do is think about… well that doesn’t matter.”

“It does.”

“They weren’t good thoughts.”

“The bad thoughts you used to have?”

“Yeah but it’s not the same.”

“What do you mean?”

“ I don’t know. I just… I wanted to cry, I wanted to run. I wanted to feel like I could stay in that bliss, where everything feels okay. Nothing feels okay.”

“How can I fix it?” Minho asks, and Newt is very quiet, the stall unlocks, and Newt steps out, holding his bag.

“It doesn’t matter. Just three more classes.”

“Newt…”

“I’m just thinking too much.”

“So if I can help…”

“I just… I don’t know. Sometimes I do that. It’s nothing.”

“Newt…”

“Yes?”

“If something is really wrong you can tell me.”

“That’s just it, nothing is really wrong. Just, I felt really overwhelmed in that moment. Just for a minutes, all the bad thoughts came rushing onto me. I just needed to breathe.”

Newt sets Minho with that determined look, the look that demands his respect, the look that says there was nothing to question, the look that always made a difference between the two of them. Newt knew how to be a leader, how to take hold of a situation. He takes a deep breath. “Walk me to class?” he asks softly and Minho nods.

Minho thinks he’s scared, that maybe he’s missing something but they walk to class and Newt is quiet for a moment before saying, “Saturday is date night.”

“What? Saturday is Downton night.”

“Yeah but Gally has the hots for Thomas so we’re watching Lion king.”

“Oh.”

Newt nods and Minho just watches the remaining people scurry off to class. “It’s complicated.”

“What?”

“Gally and Thomas.”

“That’s a joke right?”

“Yes you dope.”

They both smile. This time it doesn’t feel forced, he’s not just smiling for Minho, he is smiling. “I’ll be at your track practice.”

“What about Rob?”

“Fuck him.”

“Want to skip?”

“What?”

“Like now, we go into the woods, grab a smoke.”

“Tempting but I’m set on finishing today.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah.”

“After… we’ll turn the shower on.”

“I hate that.”

“What?”

“Having to smoke with the shower on.”

“Well..”

“Well?”

“We can go to the woods tomorrow? It’ll be too dark after your practice.”

“Are you scared?”

“Not of the darkness.”

Minho feels like that means more than the context Newt says it and he just nods slowly. “You’re brave, Newt.”

The late bell rings just as they near his science room. “Only because I’m going to Mrs. Jeoffrey's class late.”

Minho laughs. “I have Mr. Diamon and he hardly cares.”

“Hardly,” Newt agrees and they reach the door.

“See you later?”

Minho nods. “Text me if anything..”

“I’ll be fine.”

He enters the room and Alby is waiting at the lab table.

\---

When he first met Alby, it was two weeks before the semester started and all freshmen were encouraged to come early. The suite started as just Alby, Minho, Newt and Gally. Frypan came halfway into the first semester, the others trickled in. Extras who didn’t like their dorms or suites. That was besides the point.

Newt was much smaller in stature then and his parents were blonde, fancy folk who looked nice and talked proper. His sister was not there. They held his shoulders and they gave him instructions and Newt just nodded to everything they said. Alby was with his own parents, they set up his half of the room and they laughed and talked. Newt’s parents just seemed to worry and instruct and tell him that he better good grades, that he ought’a do good and make good friends. They thought Alby was fine, and they smiled show for his parents.

At the time mother and father were fighting but they didn’t show it. Newt knew they hated each other at the time, it was because his father had done something. She had caught him in a lie. They don’t tell him but he can see it in the snaps and the venom in their voices.

“Newt, dear, you’ll be fine,” mother says and his father nods too. They don’t fight anymore, they just talk quiet and sometimes Newt can still his mother's hatred for his father. They pretend they love each other, it’s false hope. He’s sad like mother, that’s what his grandmother said when they said he had depression. Just like your mother, with so much distaste. His mother was a strong woman and a hard working woman. A business woman, a big manager type woman and he thought she was quite successful and strong. His father was a rich company man. Neither his parents liked science much, but both of them talked like they knew something about it. He hated that about them.

When their parents left, Alby looked at Newt. he was smaller then too. “I’m Alby.”

“My name is Newt.”

“Newt?”

“Yeah.”

They shake hands.

That was their first interaction. It was six months later, during Thanksgiving at Alby’s house, when they sat in the backyard on the porch swing that Alby decided they were best friends. Newt looked at him surprised. He never really ever had a best friend.

“Nobody at home likes me much. Not posh enough.” His accent was thicker then too.

Alby laughs. “I think you’re cool.”

“Do ya then?”

“I do.”

“Americans, so predictable,” he teases. “You’re my best friend too.”

“Damn.”

“Yeah.”

“What do we do now?”

“Make bracelets I guess.”

Alby thought this was funny and Newt smiles softly. This was before the incident, and before the fall. The fall was just about as bad as the incident in Newt’s opinion. He liked Alby and he liked his family. They were all good people, and he didn’t get much about America or it’s culture, thanksgiving perplexed him and they all thought it was cute, but he did like being with a family that felt genuine.

“What’s your family like on Holidays?”

“Darling fix your hair, deary your tie isn’t done. Stop playing with _those_ boys and put your hands in your lap. You don’t want that dessert, and we don’t talk to _those_ people. Bloody think I was the prince or something. It’s all some proper affair to impress the arses that don’t matter.”

“Damn, I don’t want to live your life.”

“I don’t either. My mother means well but she just… comes off strong. I’m never sure about my father. I think he’s a fake.”

“Why?”

“He’s done somethin.”

“Like what?”

“Don’t know. Somethin enough that mum’s always screaming at him.”

“Damn.”

“Yeah. Better I don’t go home yet.”

\---

 _Bring your own lampshade somewhere there’s a party. Here it’s never ending can’t remember where it started._ Alby looks at him strange and they do their work in silence, Alby doesn’t say anything to him, he’s talking to the boy in front of them, Blake. Newt doesn’t say anything to either of them, just focuses on the packet. The teacher looks sympathetic and he hates it. Though he doesn’t think she marks him late and he thinks that’s okay. Another anchor sets in the sand at the bottom of his souls ocean. Another demon is set, and it’s set with heavy weight. He and Alby didn’t feel the same anymore, he doesn’t even remember when the fall began.

He doesn’t think it matters anymore anyways. He wants to cross Alby off the list of good things, he doesn’t, he just does his work.


	4. If Love was Real

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Newt talks to his mother and his day doesn't get any better. He then talks to Minho and accidentally confesses about his relationship with Thomas.   
> tw: mentions of self harm / past self harm

Newt sits on the bench outside the school, calling his mom as he promised. He doesn't really expect her to pick up, hands tapping at the old wood beneath him. There's something relic about it and Newt appreciates it. He doesn't know why but talking on the phone with his mother always made him nervous. 

“Hello?” She answers as if she doesn't know who it is. 

“Hi mum..”

“Oh hi love! Sorry I was doing paperwork. You know how it is.”

He laughs for her sake. “Yeah I guess… always something right?”

“Seems so. I missed your voice, How's it going darling?”

“Good, everything is good so far.”

“You're sure?” 

“Did I say something to lean you towards disbelief?”

“Well I just feel you don't tell me things sometimes. I don't like feeling distant from you… or like I'm losing my son.”

Newt doesn't really know what to say, he pauses and his chest tightens. “I'm sorry,” he eventually says. “But honest I'm okay.. I have that literature class and the teacher is kinda boring.”

“Is he a man?”

“Yeah?”

“Some men just have that voice that hurt to listen to.”

Newt nods. “Yeah… it's hardly that just there's more interesting things to talk about.” 

“Of course. Did you end up taking that business class?”

“No it didn't quite fit my schedule. Besides I would rather have the science.”

“You tend to lean towards science.” 

“Sorry,” Newt apologizes. At least his sister would probably end up like them, he hears how his mom hesitates, towards acceptance but not at all. He was meant to be an elitist, entrepreneur type. Drinking in the office with the girls on his lap type. The oxford rich type. He wasn't. He isn't. 

“It's… just how you are and we're all different,” she settles. He hates it.

“I suppose.”

“Well, what colleges are you applying to? Would you prefer we transfer to the states for a while?”

“No I can handle it,” he says. “I think, Harvard, Yale, Princeton, Kings in England, theres one in France…”

“Your French is good?”

“ _ Oui _ , J’aimerais penser comme cela.” 

“What?”

“I'd like to think so mum.”

“In french I'm guessing?”

“Yes,” he agrees and once again laughs for her sake. He's hugging his middle and talking to her makes him anxious. He wants to puke. How does he tell her that he thinks the medicine isn't working? That he thinks about dying too much? He doesn't. 

“Is there any girls you like?” She tries.

“What?” He asks off guard. He and Thomas have been at it since last May, he spent some of the summer on a road trip with him. Just the two of them. His heart was sinking right into his stomach.

“Like a crush, anyone special?”

_ Yes but not who you think. Not who you want me to like.  _ “N-no,” he says, drawing one knee up, a leaf falling loose from its branch. 

“Sure,” she accepts disbelieving.

“I should get going,” he says. “I have work.”

“Alright,” she agrees. “You'll call soon?”

“Of course…” he pauses. “I love you.” He says it mostly to appease her, even if he does love her, sometimes he feels unsure. Right now he's unsure. 

“I love you too. Have a good night darling,” she says before hanging up. He lays his head on his knee and exhales slowly.  _ Great _ . He's not anticipating Christmas much at all anymore, mostly because he can feel the ground beneath him shifting. Their family balance since his father fucked up before he came to school here was always fragile. Even before then, it was like skating on thin ice or drinking from fragile glasses. They could break at the slightest inconvenience or pressure.

He didn't want to be that pressure but he was turning out to be. He had a choice really but he owed it to himself to make the choices that had the most resistance.

\--

They turn on the shower and sit beside the tub. The window was open. Newt inhales and it feels like much needed release. It feels generous, even if its toxic. Cigarettes were bad but they did bad so well. Handled being bad with too much grace. Nobody else was home, a moderate and commendable convenience. 

Newt hates that he can't stop thinking about Thomas, thinking about how he moves, how plush his lips are. He thinks about how he's at the library probably in a sweatshirt, warm and his hair spiked from his hands running through several times. How he must be lost in a book, chewing his lip in that  _ way  _ he does. Newt loves that, loves his lips and his hands and his  _ shoulders _ \- don't get Newt started on Thomas shoulders. He could write gospel about them really. He exhales the smoke and hopes to exhale his thoughts too.

“What's on your mind?” Minho asks. “You've been awfully quiet.” 

Newt nods. “I spoke to my mum.”

“Yeah? She say something?”

“She said I feel distant… that she wants me to tell her things but then gets sort of cold when I tell her the things she doesn't want to hear. The  _ wrong  _ things.”

“Doesn't make you wrong… she's just a mom. Moms come around. You know? They get all snobby and huffy before accepting it.”

“I don't know… my family is hardly holding itself together. I'll bloody break it because I won't go to Oxford and I won't be a business tycoon and god… imagine what they'll do when I tell them about Tommy?”

“Thomas? What's he have to do with anything?”

“What?”

“You said when you tell them about  _ Thomas _ . What's there to tell?”

“I… I didn't mean- well-” Newt stops, and he watches minho inhale and exhale. It was so delicately dangerous, the art of smoking was somehow so spot on the border of killer and savior. He thinks it's somehow self reflectant but he doesn't think too much on it. He can't think of a real excuse. It all sounds too damning. “We've been dating.”

“You and Thomas.”

“Yeah.”

“Shit man, how'd I miss  _ that  _ detail.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean.. Alby kept hinting at it but you know he's been kind of a jerk lately, so I thought you liked him. But I mean… dating? Jeez Thomas kinda sucks…. no offense.”

Newt snorts. “That's what I told Brenda. Then when I told him he denied sucking at all.”

“Brenda?”

“Yeah she stopped by the store yesterday.”

“Strange.” Brenda stopping by to see Newt perplexed Minho way more than the initial and more monumental statement. “So… I dunno, is he good to you when we're not looking?”

“Yeah… he's a good boyfriend.”

“So… your parents don't know?”

“That I'm gay? God no. They'd be mortified,  _ humiliated _ . I'm already mentally ill, that's enough. You know, they pretend to care but it's all hush hush. Nobody is to know I take pills or talk to my psychologist which I'm not even allowed to see often… and we don't  _ ever  _ bring up the incident. They don't even know what actually happened and that makes me feel so guilty until we're on the phone and my mother can't garter the sympathy for me. Then I think if I told them, they wouldn't care much.”

“I care,” Minho decides. Newt takes a drag, staying quiet. “I care and I don't know your folks but I know they care deep down, you know? Just… sometimes… man I don't know, sometimes they just fucking suck. Parents just do and I mean, if they can't be there for you, I will be. I always will be. No matter the distance Newt.”

Newt exhales shaky and he doesn't want to cry but the feeling is there. They smoke in silence until the cigarettes are out. They turn the water off, and Newt runs a hand through his hair.

“I appreciate it, you being around for me,” Newt says softly. Minho nods, the two shifting to sit beside each other leaning against the tub.

“How long you been with him?”

“Almost 5 months…? I dunno… I'm afraid of falling apart.”

“Why?”

“Because… I don't know, you go online and all people talk about is how either people like me don't find love or how love is your boyfriend kissing yourself harm scars and your petty tears away. Your depression is healed, you don't hate yourself anymore. But I don't… god I dont  _ feel  _ healed. He makes me happy but happiness doesn't last for me.”

“You don't hurt yourself do you?”

“No… it's been a long time since I had any urge to do that.”

Minho nods. “Good.”

“Honestly?”

“Hm?” 

“Scares me… that anyone could find your cuts or bruises. And… sometimes I think if Thomas sees me naked, notices the scars, he won't want me anymore.”

“Sure he will. Scars aren't bad you know?”

“I guess. How I got them is.”

“Man I respect you. You put yourself through all this shit and still make everyone's lives better just by existing and you ace all your classes and you get a hot boyfriend… that takes guts. It's not weak. You know?”

“I don't but thanks…”

“He probably loves you,” Minho points out. 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“I want… a real life love. Someone who I can rely on. Someone who doesn't just kiss my scars and heal me but someone who is there and stays there. Like… good bad and ugly. I want a real life kind of love,  _ so  _ bad.” 

“You'll find it. In fact, you might already have it.”

The door to enter the suite opens and they both just tilt their heads back in annoyance. “You'll be okay,” Minho whispers. 

Newt nods and for once he believes him. Even if just a little bit. 


	5. Believable

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Newt recalls parts of his road trip with Thomas while facing complications in his friendship with Alby. Newt sees Brenda at work again, he also comes home to Thomas. This is one week after the last chapter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oof has work been tiring but I am trying to update everyday for you guys!

_ There was wind blowing through their hair, the top of Tommys convertible down, Newt raised a hand to feel the air, laughing. Music was playing loud, trees hung over the street with their wide branches. Thomas was smiling in this way that he seemed to glow, his whole face alight with content and happiness. The rest of the world meant nothing, it was a fleeting notion, a passing existence. They resided in the limbo of youth, stuck in the arms of the closest friend you could ever have.  _

_ Something about it felt like magic, like a safe haven on earth. Just him and Tommy in his car. They had planned this since spring break, originally Minho and Frypan were meant to come but they backed out. Alby was against it from the start, he always just wanted to be home.  _

_ Mom: did you head out? _

_ Newt: yes _

_ Mom: when should I reserve our the private jet for you _

_ Newt: not sure _

_ Mom: what do you mean _

_ Newt: we're just seeing how it goes along _

_ Mom: where are you even going? _

_ “Where are we going exactly?” _

_ “Vermont, then maybe the beaches in Maine.” _

_ Newt: its sort of ambiguous really but the mountains of vermont then perhaps the beach in Maine  _

_ Mom: youll be gone all summer then  _

_ Newt: not at all just a couple weeks _

_ Mom: who are you with? _

_ Newt: my mate from my dorm _

_ Mom: oh  _

_ “Newt put your phone down!” Thomas complains.  _

_ “Okay okay I'm paying attention,” he says looking out at the scenic route they were taking.  _

“Newt?” Alby asks, nudging him. “Newt pay attention.”

“What?” He asks. It's been exactly a week since his conversation with Minho, and well Minho didn't tell a soul. Newt was thankful.

“We're supposed to be working on this together,” Alby points out. 

“Sorry I zoned out.”

Alby eyes him and nods, Newt wants to run a line through Albys name again. He hates these silent testaments, the silent  _ are you okay  _ ‘s and the glancing across the cafeterias. Texts that he'll catch Newt later or they'll go out Saturday only for him to go away for the weekend. It felt like abandonment. It felt like a half hearted need. 

“I was just thinking,” Newt defends. “Okay, so Pre Questions…” they were both in AP Biology and Chemistry, Newt thinks they're a breeze. Too easy. But he likes the lab work if he's honest. 

Alby nods, and he follows along. They are quiet besides the work, they don’t talk much at all. “I’m going on a date,” Alby eventually says. “She’s a nice enough girl, she’s not in any of your classes though.”

“Sure. Is she nice?” Newt asks, and Alby nods.

“Yeah she’s a good person.”

“Good,” Newt agrees. He hates that the silence stretches.

“Yeah… What have you been up to?”

“Uhm, just a lot of studying, I guess. There’s a student council meeting and a parents speech sort of thing. My parents are flying in for that.”

“Yeah mine too.” Alby was the president until this year, he was voted down to VP and Newt took over as class president. That was one of those things that changed, Newt wasn’t really in his shadow anymore. He wasn’t Alby’s second in command, rather now they were in this strange place of equal gain, a sudden power shift. “Have you been working on your speech? I could help you…” It’s always been the two of them like this, Newt used to sit and walk through the speeches with Alby, and they would always put together plans for the year that fell through with little resistance from the board. They knew how to deal their cards, they worked great together. Alby was his greatest friend in the whole wide world, or he used to be anyways. He used to think he wouldn’t love anybody like he loved Alby, they were soulmates in that way that they should have been born together or something, like twins. Two souls part of the same eternal cycle. 

He was losing Alby though and Newt guesses sometimes you lose your soulmate. You get replaced. “I’ve been thinking of it. We have a meeting-”

“Friday,” Alby cuts in. “I know, I was there when you were talking about it at dinner last night with Minho.” 

Minho was head of the athletic treasury, and Gally was the Secretary. “Right. Well, I was thinking we’d bounce around the ideas with the whole group and set the year for the whole school in a fashion that’s more democratic. You know, because it’s affecting more people? I’ve been writing things down.”

“Why haven’t you mentioned them?”

“You’ve been busy.”

“Could’ve texted. You’re busy too you know.”

“Yeah I guess I am, which is why I write them down when I think of them. We just don’t cross paths, what with Rob having me in so often and all.”

“Yeah…” Alby nods, and a sort of uncertainty passes over his features. 

Replacement, you see, was a matter of experience. You  _ learn  _ to be replaced. Simply put, people find other people, and as a person, you learn to cope with that. You learn who else you have to tell your secrets too or about the guy with the stupid colored shoes you saw in the hallway. You find other people, you fill in the spaces. A long time ago, Newt found that Minho filled all the spaces Alby couldn’t. Thomas filled every space, he shared every issued corner, and expanse of territory in Newt’s heart or soul or wherever it was that spaces got filled. Whatever metaphorical plane that existed and people took the space needed and being that it took, Thomas filled them. He thinks maybe Alby is feeling replaced, Newt was replaced a while ago, and he was already finding the people who filled those spaces. 

Alby would have to start from the beginning. 

“What are the ideas?” He asks after a while.

“Pardon?”

“You wrote ideas.”

“I did.”

“What are they?”

Newt wasn’t about to curve him so obviously. “Well I was thinking we do some fundraising and bring a carnival on campus one night, maybe a Friday so the kids who leave on weekends can catch it.” 

“What’s the purpose?”

“Just to catch a break.”

“What does it benefit though?”

“The kids mental health? Helps give people a chance to breathe and do something fun? So they’re not squandered by the pressure that schools like ours put on them, and feel like just for one night, it’s okay to laugh and not look at their essays or notes or find internships.” Newt had done at least five internships in his four years at Gladesville Academy. 

“Okay… Fair point. Anything else?”

“Well, Teresa was saying how she wanted more diverse clubs, so I want an initiative for more clubs. Better microscopes, fundraising for the school dances. Prom, especially. Thomas suggested having some graduation thing- you know to celebrate making it out?”

“Like a party?”

“Or like a vacation type day for a few days?”

“Vacation?”

“I dunno, just something mate. Could be anything.”

Alby always thought British slang was funny, but it rolls off Newt’s tongue with familiarity. Thomas quite liked it, considering curses hardly fit for him, Newt made language seem effortless, no matter what. That’s what Thomas said. ( _ lying cooze, he was.)  _

“What are you reading lately?” Alby asks and Newt shrugs.

“I’m rereading  _ Tender is the Night _ .” 

“By Fitzgerald?”

“Yeah, just feels familiar? I like reading it.”

“Yeah I get that,” Alby says, and he leans back, pen tapping. Newt never  _ really  _ seems to look up at him. “I’m sorry about cancelling last weekend-”

“Don’t worry about it,” Newt quickly shuts down. “Thomas and I went out anyways.”

“You and Thomas?”

“Yeah, he wanted to go to this new place in the town, so we went. Minho joined us later, and we all went ice skating.”

Alby had seen the pictures, most of them Polaroids that Winston had taken. “The others were there too, weren’t they?”

“Yeah, we all sort of just met up there. Sunday I had work but after we watched Lion King.”

“Oh.”

“It was fun.”

He nods, guilt setting in his stomach. He could have been with them, could have taken that one picture where Newt is beaming, his coat casually hanging off his shoulders, seeming so effortless but probably planned, and probably brought on by Minho, who had an adoration for aesthetics and great insta feeds. He usually had Newt do great things for pictures because he rarely posts and so when he does it must be fantastic. Alby recalls feeling jealous, but he chose not to be there, he chose to leave and go on the trip with his other friends. 

“Why the lion king?”

“It was a joke,” Newt says, not really filling him in, more focused on doing the math for their lab. He glances up at the chemicals in front of them, made to extract DNA if done right. He just seems to understand what he was presented with and went on doing what he does. 

“Joke…?”

“Yeah, you kinda had to be there but like, it’s nothing.”

“Right.”

“Here, you do the second problem,” Newt says, getting up to grab them gloves to start setting up what he’s already figured out. Alby nods, he does as he’s told. He has to wonder what the joke was, nobody really filled him on it. Or on their weekend, they just went on Monday morning as if the group hadn’t had such a filled up weekend. 

At least, it must feel filled because Alby had missed it. He had his own filled weekend, he did tons of things, had plenty of fun. But now he just feels bad. 

Newt returns with the gloves and various tools of measurement. Teresa was at the table diagonal them, she was there Saturday too. Her and Newt had a few pictures together.

“What's the rush?” She asks Newt randomly.

“Hm?”

“What you texted me earlier.”

“ _ Oh _ . No rush, just excited.”

She scoffs. “Okay, but we should wait.”

“But it's better if we don't.”

“So there's a rush?”

“Not a rush, a precaution.”

She glances at his paper. “That's not how  _ I  _ did it.” 

“Well that's how I did it. That's the formula.”

The change in environment felt uncomfortably instant but maybe, Alby thinks, he just hadn't paid enough attention. Newt was kind to everyone, no matter how wary a person might make him. He was the golden hearted, the sweet. 

\---

Newt settles in the library for his free period. It's the one place where life was totally quiet. (  _ And I like you ) Im glad that we stopped kissing the tar on the highway _

Newt smiles, the song settling a nostalgic feeling in his chest. He turns it up and he can almost feel Thomas’ hand lacing his on the console, his lips precariously close to his own, kissing his cheek, then the corner of his lips. They weren't really anything, the trip brought on a whole new aspect to whatever it was going on between them.  _ And I like you. And I like you… And I like you.  _ His chest swelled with love. September was warm, warm like late may, early June when they were on the road, headed to Vermont. 

_ “I never said I wanted to kiss you.” _

_ Thomas doesn't seem to have the words as Newt fixes him with a confident stare. His breath is bated and Newt sets him a questioning look. “Do you want me to kiss you?” _

_ “Well I don't just want you to stare at me.” _

_ Thomas can't help the relieved smile on his face, glad he hadn't read Newt wrong, the blush that covers his ears uncontrollable. He leans in again, and this time he meets Newt in a soft kiss. The song lulled them in soft, breathtaking kisses. Hands all over each other both uncertain and too sure; trailing from Thomas’ hair to cup his neck.  _

Newt finally takes a good look at his textbook, taking in a lungful of air. 

There's 2 types of drowning in this world:

  1. Drowning that was meant to kill you
  2. Drowning that made you live



Thomas was the kind of drowning that made you live. He filled Newts lungs with air but stole his breath all the same. It was like, everytime they kissed he stopped breathing, but it wasn’t harmful. It wasn’t deadly. It was that type of breathless that felt like heaven, too good not to be sin. 

But that's besides the point, his textbook- he had notes to do. Things to finish. Though that didn’t matter much when all he could think of was Thomas’ hands hesitating along his bicep, the times they’ve gripped his shirt, just below his waist, keeping him close. He thinks of their few weeks together over the summer. The intimate peace that came with sharing a car, sharing a cabin, sharing a beach house alone. He thinks that maybe that could be the rest of his life, maybe maybe maybe. 

\---

Brenda was there on Saturday too, at the ice rink, and some of the other girls. It was fun really, and she didn’t see a reason not to come to see Newt again. She remembers seeing him drag Thomas along the ice, laughing as Thomas tried to keep up with Newt, who was lithe and elegant on ice. She remembers his witty banter with his friends, how he and Teresa decided to go to a concert together. Everybody was punch drunk happy and not one of them had any alcohol. She remembers that night like no other, it felt so bright, and so fun. It was the most fun most of them had had in a long time. They all smiled and tumbled and picked each other up, put the pieces together even if life fell apart outside, in that ice rink, in that moment, things were okay. And she remembers feeling like Newt could really be her friend. 

Newt was sitting behind the counter, nose in a book. Something about him strikes her as beautiful, the way the dim yellow lights colored his pale skin and made him look much warmer, how his sweater hugged his body just right, and cozy enough. His hair was long enough that it drooped lazily into his eyes, shoulders slouched up, squeezed at the blades as his body furled in, lost in the book. His lips were sort of pouting, eyes half lidded, totally lost in his book. And she thinks he’s wonderful, in a strange sort of way. 

“Read to me,” she says, alerting him of her presence. 

“ _ One writes of scars healed, a loose parallel to the pathology of the skin, but there is no such thing in the life of an individual. There are open wounds, shrunk sometimes to the size of a pin-prick but wounds still. The marks of suffering are more comparable to the loss of a finger, or of the sight of an eye. We may not miss them, either, for one minute in a year, but if we should there is nothing to be done about it, _ ” Newt reads, straight from the pages of Tender is the Night.

“British people, your voices are so nice.”

“Nah it’s just me,” Newt teases, a small smile playing on his lips.

“You okay? You seem a little low.”

“I’m having friendship issues,” he admits. “I mean, I don’t know, maybe I’m not doing my all but he certainly isn’t doing much to help it either.”

“Alby?”

“How’d you know?”

“Teresa was saying he got kind of upset you were talking to her earlier.”

“No, I think… I think he just feels left out. I mean, normally he’s around when we do things like this, but he decided to leave and we still went out, we all got together and had fun and then had a movie night on Sunday.. But I don’t know what he expects really.”

“What do you mean?”

“He sort of just decided we were lesser in a way.”

“I doubt he means it.”

“Maybe.”

“Maybe.”

She leans against the counter and they just sort of stare at the same spot on the counter before Newt looks to his book and sighs softly. “It’ll get better,” Brenda says.

“Yeah… It’s alright.”

“Can I say anything to make it better?”

“What’s that Faulkner quote? Words are nothing but shapes to fill a lack or something like that?” Newt shrugs. “I’ll be okay.”

She nods, not sure what to say. “I like your company,” she decides.

“Oh… good, I think?”

“Can I help with anything?”

“Not currently, I’ve got everything done really.”

_ The morning sun was shining bright on the road, and they’d just woken up, still in the car park on the side of the highway. “Read to me,” Thomas said when he woke up, Newt lost inTender is the Night, his cheek rested on his fist. It was his first time reading it, he didn’t think the book would become so detrimental to him, so full of good memories.  _

_ “‘Think how you love me.’ she whispered. ‘I don’t ask you to love me always like this, but I ask you to remember. Somewhere inside me there will always be the person I am to-night.’” Newt pauses and glances to Thomas who looks like Cupid had struck him with a bow.  _

_ “Your voice is nice,” Thomas whispers. _

_ “You’re bloody tired, that’s all,” Newt says.  _

_ “Would you mind reading to me until we stop somewhere to eat?” _

_ “Sure Tommy.” And they were so uncertain so unsure.  _

“It’s my favorite book,” Newt says. 

“Why’s that?” Brenda asks.

Newt thinks for a moment. “I uhm… It reminds me of someone I love,” he settles and Brenda nods.

“My dad loves this one record, says if he could be a badass, he would use that song to play before blowing something up.”

“I mean, I don’t think I would read this book before blowing something up but it reminds me of somebody special to me and well… I don’t know, it makes me feel a little closer to them.”

“Family?”

“Friend.”

“What kind of friend?”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“It does, if you like that book so much.”

“Not really… not in actuality.”

“Sure it does.”

“You think?”

“Yeah, it matters.”

“I guess.”

“So who is it?”

“Not telling you.”

“So you’re just running me in circles?”

“Basically,” Newt agrees nodding. 

She nods. “Where’s your boss?”

“Beats me, I think he left.”

“You think?”

“Never sure about him.”

“I see.”

They nod, as if they both understood something. 

A few hours later, Newt is met with the relief of home, and the relief of Thomas actually being in his bed for once. He shuts the door and locks it, takes his shirt and tosses it before replacing it with one of his jumpers, but before he can pull it on, Thomas is kissing at his shoulder. 

“Hi to you too,” Thomas mumbles and Newt’s head falls forward slightly, leaning into his touch. Thomas kisses again, just a little lower on the bone. “Long day?”

“Yeah, really long,” he admits, hand falling over the one Thomas has on his stomach. 

“Why’s that?”

“My parents decided they are definitely coming for that parents thing…”

“Is that bad?”

“I think they’re fighting again so probably.”

“Again?”

“They do this thing where they pretend to be in love again, like they did this summer. Make a whole show so I don’t get upset or whatever, show off to the family that comes in the summer, their friends believe them, do honeymoon trips for a few days. But it’s all fake, it’s all superficial, all probably for sex and monetized things.”

“Yikes.”

“You’re telling me.”

“We won’t ever be like that,” Thomas says as a promise, like they’ll be together forever, then he kisses just below his shoulder blade and Newt sighs soft, relaxed in Thomas’ arms. 

“ God I hope not,” Newt says. “I don’t think I could ever hate you anyways.”

“God I hope not,” Thomas repeats, resting his forehead on Newt’s shoulder. Newt’s jumper was resting on one arm, dangling off it precariously, just hanging there like it had no other form. Newt had a strong torso, thin but strong and Thomas wanted to lavish him in kisses, to leave every part of him kissed and saturated with love and understanding. “Are you going to tell them?”

“Not yet… Baby steps dear.”

“You told them about Oxford?”

“I told mum.”

“And?”

“Well you should’ve heard her.”

“You mentioned it.”

“I sort of hate them.”

“Yeah… I get that.”

Newt nods, resting his head on Thomas’. “I’m getting cold,” Newt complains.

“I could warm you up pretty easy.”

“By letting me put my shirt on?” Newt teases and Thomas laughs. 

“How’d you know?” he whispers, and Newt shrugs him off, pulling his jumper on and going to his bed, patting it once he’s settled. 

“Sleep with me tonight?”

Thomas isn’t one to ever tell Newt no. He turns the lamp off. He climbs in and the big, plush blankets fall over them, billowing them in. Thomas wraps his arms around Newt and Newt places his own over Thomas’. “Newt?” Thomas whispers after a while. “I won’t let us become like your parents.”

Newt’s brow furrows for a moment before he kisses Thomas’ knuckles. “I believe you, Tommy,” he whispers, words full of meaning. “I believe you.”


	6. The Door was Locked

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Newt has a breakdown, and everything feels terrible. He crosses Alby's name out on a list and suddenly he feels like he's acquired a gaping wound. Being replaced is a process, much like grieving.  
> TW: mentions of self harm but no self harm actually happens, it's metaphoric and Minho mentions it

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let's play spot the Gilmore Girls reference tbh also read the ending note

The door was locked. Alby noticed this when he tried to sneak in and wake Newt, who inevitably must be alone because Thomas goes out to run at 5 most mornings and it was 5.15  and the door was locked. Maybe Newt locked it, but he could hear the slight creaking of bed, the rustling from inside..

He wasn’t sure what was going on but the door was locked.

The door was locked.

\---

Newt lays in bed long after Thomas goes on his run, he has his headphones in. He wanted to disappear into the covers and sob into the pillows and drown under the rushing water of the river down in the forest. He wanted to just stop existing, for a moment, for an hour. Without Thomas there, out on his run, he was allowed a moment of peace. He made sure the door was locked even after Thomas left. His heart lay heavy in his chest and he wanted to yank it out.

Newt wanted to rip himself to pieces, the tears pooling in his eyes as his head screams _nonnono!_ But he can’t stop it, the transpiring of emotions as he hugs his pillows and sobs silently. His whole body twisting to grasp at the pillow and muffle his cries, headphones being yanked out. Everything was overwhelming and it felt, in a way, that it shouldn’t be. It shouldn’t matter that his parents are coming next week, it shouldn’t matter that nobody knew about him and Thomas, it shouldn’t matter that Alby didn’t spend much time with him anymore. It shouldn’t matter, but it does. Everything seems to matter sometimes. He thinks this is because he forgot that stupid pill last night, but sometimes you just forget.

He hugs his pillow and sobs, because it’s all he knows how to do. He sobs because he can’t breathe and sometimes it’s better that way. But he wants to breathe, he wants to breathe easy, he wants to not feel suffocated by emotions or that his limbs drag even as he smiles and goes about his day. He hates feeling rooted to his bed. Do you know how hard it is to live? How hard it is to breathe? Breathing should come easy, it’s the most natural thing to do. Yet Newt sometimes feels like breathing is hard and if breathing is hard, what is the rest of life without breath? Newt can’t breathe, he feels like he’s drowning.

There are two types of drowning and this is the drowning that makes you feel like you’re dying, it’s the drowning that tries to kill you. His lungs were betraying him, no proper breaths between sobs. He wants to relent. He doesn’t want to go to class today, he doesn’t want to see Alby, he doesn’t want to have to face him, he doesn’t want to walk out with puffy eyes and splotchy cheeks and get that look of knowing from all his friends. He doesn’t want to feel like he’s sick, and he doesn’t want to feel the pity of the eyes of those around him. The poor thing, they’ll think. The poor boy.

Newt hates it. He hates it. He sucks in his tears, chest heavy with emotion and he grabs his list from his backpack. He turns the page.

**~~Ten~~ Things I absolutely Hate**



  1. ****Alby****
  2. **Being ignored**
  3. **My depression**
  4. **Who i’m supposed to be**
  5. **Who I actually am**
  6. **Alby**



 

It’s cathartic in a strange way to just cross his name out over and over again. Six becomes ripped paper, and as the sun rises it dazzles the paper with it’s warmth, it stuns the pen to show that he’s used his blue glitter gel pen, and it makes the words dazzle, but it makes the cross out that’s ripped on Alby’s name seem somehow like blood and he cover his mouth and sobs as his forehead rests on the paper. He rocks himself without meaning to, his shoulders shaking with the effort to stay up before the slump and he sobs audibly. Why doesn’t he like him anymore? What changed? What changed? What changed?

He doesn’t hear the door unlock, he doesn’t hear it open, he doesn’t hear it shut. And suddenly around him are two strong arms and a kiss on the head. _It’s okay Newt It’s okay._ Thomas is the only one with a key to the room, he knows instantly it’s him, and he hugs Thomas’ arm, he presses his face into his neck and he cries. He cries because he can cry, because it’s good to cry even if it burns. His lungs burn, his throat burns, his nose burns.

_It’s okay It’s okay It’s okay. Newt you’re going to be okay._

He wants to speak, he wants to beg, he wants answers. But he just cries. Cries until it’s 7.15 and there’s only 45 minutes until class, which is at 8, and they’re laying in the bed at a sort of weird angle: their legs were hanging off but their bodies were twisted to be laying against the pillows, Thomas spooned him perfectly. Newt’s eyes were red, and he had that feeling you get when you’re sick lingering in the back of his throat. His head throbbed. He swallows thickly.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t ever be sorry.”

“We’re going to be late.”

“We have time.”

“Not really.”

Newt’s eyes shut. “Stay home today,” Thomas whispers.

“I can’t.”

“Newt…”

“No I promised Aris I would help with the Sophomore council bake sale at lunch, and I promised Teresa to help her in chemistry…”

“Other people can wait Newt…”

“ _Thomas_ I can’t…” He whispers with more weight. “I don’t want to sit here and wallow.”

“Okay,” Thomas nods. Newt rarely called him by his full first name.

Newt nods and Thomas shifts, Newt looking alarmed and scared and abandoned but Thomas instantly presses a kiss to his temple. “Tea bags help reduce puffiness and eye redness.”

Newt relaxes, a small smile playing on his lips. “Thank you Tommy.”

He nods. “For you my dear, anything.”

“Did you just quote _How to Train Your Dragon_?”

“ _Two_ ,” Thomas clarifies and Newt laughs, shoulders shaking, head turning to hide in the pillow and Thomas feels pride soar inside him, because even when Newt was low, he could make him smile.

“You’re bloody ridiculous Tommy.”

“And I’m yours…”

They meet in a soft, endearing kiss. Newt was happy, in a twisted way. “Three pills.”

“What?”

“I forgot to take it.”

“So taking another doesn’t just compensate,” Thomas tells him.

“If I think hard enough, maybe.”

“Just believe it and you’ll see results.”

“Sometimes I wished my mind worked like that.”

“Two.”

“Fine.”

Thomas leaves and they all sort of look at him expectant. Thomas shrugs. “He doesn’t want to talk really,” he admits as he goes to grab a coffee mug, making it a bit darker because Newt liked his coffee more bitter when he was upset. He takes two pills and he heats up water so it’s warm not hot and let’s two tea bags rest in there until he thinks they’re ready.

Frypan stops him and holds up a plate. It was a strawberry shortcake pancake, Newt’s favorite kind, and Thomas gestures for him to follow .Minho just looks concerned, Alby is sitting beside him worried. Alby doesn’t say anything, Minho gets up and follows the other two. Minho, for a moment, thinks that thank god Chuck wasn’t there because it all sort of unfolded like a funeral might. They all just sort of knew that something was wrong and nobody made a sound, to respect Newt. Because Newt deserved peace when things felt violent.

“I made you breakfast,” Frypan says as Minho sits beside Newt on the bed, who looks pouty and sad. It breaks his heart, and he runs a hand through Newt’s hair, big brown eyes gleaming up at him with an emotion he can’t decipher.

“Not very hungry,” he whispers and Minho kisses Newt’s forehead.

“Please eat,” he whispers and Newt turns away from him, Thomas watches Newt with the same look. He’s not jealous of Minho, because he doesn’t have a reason to be, and he doesn’t think Minho would ever do anything to hurt him.

Newt nods and he sits up, taking the coffee and the pills and downing the pills with the coffee. A bitter combination, and somehow it makes his stomach churn. Newt feels Minho’s knuckles tracing his ribs as if looking for a reaction. He wants to say he didn’t hurt himself, but he feels the tears well up when he thinks of the paper, spliced by the pen running through it over and over and over again. He feels like he cut a piece of his own heart out, but nobody would understand. Nobody would get it, get why it felt the way that it did. Why crossing a name on paper out hurts like a knife wrenched into his gut. Newt thinks he deserves this.

Frypan sits next to him, he glances at the paper and Thomas and Minho do too. “What’s that?”

“Nothing.”

They all nod, nobody touches it, and forces Newt to show him. Newt takes the plate.

“I’m going,” he says and they all nod. Newt was strong, determined.

“We won’t stop you,” Thomas says, letting Frypan sit beside Newt too. He sits on his own bed.

“We have AP lit first period,” Minho says. “We can afford to miss it.”

“I-”

“One period Newt. So you can shower and eat and get ready.”

“Fine one period,” Newt agrees and Minho nods, appreciatively, he glances to Thomas who looks relieved and smiles tight lipped. Even when Newt’s emotions were violently present, or sunken into the bed and the pillow with wet tears, as Newt lay there, tired and his eyes sore and his cheeks a splotchy pink, there was a sense of understanding within the friends. They all just sort of understood each other, in one aspect or another. Frypan understood that Newt needed comfort and he didn’t know how to comfort better than when he made food, that was his understanding. Thomas understood in that he knew Newt needed a person to hold him, and so held him and kissed him like he meant the world. Minho understood him in the sense that he knew how to fill the spaces, how to repair the damage. So Minho, whether he spoke or not, asked the questions everybody else was afraid to ask.

And when everybody left and Newt was just laying on his back staring at the cieling, Minho sat beside him. “You’re not allowed to die first,” Minho decides.

“What?” Newt asks, surprised as he sits up and looks to Minho, this makes him dizzy.

“You’re my best friend, and I am never leaving you. Understand? Its you and me until the end. And if that’s how it’s going to be, I get to go first. You’re not dying before me because I can’t live my life without you. Got it?”

It was a demand more than a request, it was Minho’s way of saying that whatever Newt was feeling right now, it wasn’t allowed to kill him. They weren’t allowed to be in that position so many years ago. It felt like decades, it was only a few years. Minho sets him with a look and Newt nods. “You may go first,” Newt whispers, head tilted just slightly.

Minho nods, certain. Newt was his brother, his best friend. Fuck whatever it was that he thought Alby was to him, they were it. The bestest friends in the whole wide world, in a way that felt like they always understood and saw each other. They didn’t need to prove it, they didn’t need to realize it. It just was how things were. Minho and Newt? They were it. They were brothers. They were soulmates. Destiny. Whatever it was that tied people together, whatever magic god created to make people so close, this was it. Minho was certain that Newt was his bestest friend in the whole wide universe, that divinity played a part in it and that even if they drift, he and Newt would meet again. Newt wasn’t allowed to die first, because Minho couldn’t handle that.

\---

The Mighty Gladers, that’s what most called the three. Newt was the brains, he knew everything, he was brilliant. Minho was quick and witty, he was brilliant at math, he was strong, he was resourceful. Thomas was introspective, he understood, he was determined, wildly so. If there was a plan to carry out, Thomas was the leader to carry it. The three of them worked too well together, tightly knit.

So it was no surprise that when the three worked with Aris to help the sophomore class during lunch that people were attracted to the tables made for the bake sale. They worked perfectly off each other, they attracted people with their presence. It was funny, how all it really took was the three to show and everything went smoothly.

For a whole hour, Newt felt overly loved, by people he hardly knew. Something about class president made you popular like that, that people wanted to talk to you and wanted to laugh with you. So Newt accepted the passes and conversation and the laughter. He felt hollow, but the laughter fills his chest. Afterwards they stay to clean up and Jansen gives them passes. See Headmaster Jansen liked Newt and Minho but Thomas liked to be… disruptive sometimes. He and Jansen were not on the best of terms most of the time, even if Thomas was his star athlete.

“Off to class boys,” Jansen says before stopping them. “You two called out of first period, is everything okay?” Jansen eyes Newt.

“Everything is fine, Mr. Jansen, I just had a bit of a rough morning… wasn’t feeling too well and Minho made sure I had medication and tea and all that,” Newt says softly, smiling an even softer smile, so sure and positive and small but glowing. The way it lit Newt’s features was convincing enough and both Minho and Thomas felt a piece of their hearts chip away. It wasn’t fair, that Newt could be so broken.

“Sure. Anyways, off the three of you go. You may be the Mighty Gladers, but you are still _students,_ Students that I expect the best from no less.” He looks to Thomas. “Two out of three of you anyways.”

Thomas scoffs and they leave, Newt looking to Thomas. “He’s just teasing you.”

“He’s shit.”

“Not that bad, Tommy.”

“Says the headmasters pet.”

“Boo, you’re just jealous that I can get away with things.”

“Jealous of you? Never.”

“Always,” Newt teases. “I’m great at everything.”

\--

It was like an open wound, the piece of paper, except wounds were not so brilliant or beautiful in that they shimmered with glory, blue with desires ink. Wounds were violent and red and lashing, they took time to heal, but much like a wound, the paper was ugly, and though it shimmered and shined, it was ghastly, reprehensible, never to be the same. It glittered with violence, the fire that burned in Newt’s stomach and he ripped the page out of his notebook that he’d left on the bed and he crumpled it.

Walking to the kitchen where some of the others were he took Minho’s lighter that he’d left on the counter and set the paper on fire then left it in the sink to burn. For a moment he watches the fire lick the paper, dance along it’s folds and edges and he twists it. Burning all the memory of his scars and pain. Burning it because he didn’t want to look at it. He thinks his friends must be watching concerned (They are) but he burns it and then he leaves it in the sink to fizzle out and the paper to turn to ashes. Ashes because he couldn’t stand to see the wound gaping and glimmering and yelling at him.

See, the thing about replacement was it felt easy until you broke and then you had to start all over again. Being replaced was a process, much like grieving, but not quite so and Newt felt replaced. He accepted it, he filled in the gaps. But when there are gaping wounds in your soul or heart or whatever plain of existence it was that people in your life filled, well without Alby there were just gaps. Holes. Wounds. It was a phantom limb, the limb of a human being existence that still existed but not quite. They were dead to you. Alby was dead to Newt because he could text Alby and Alby might never responded. He could be sitting next to him and Alby isn’t there. The best things in life, you see, are often the ones that feel the worst when they’re gone. You can’t take pills to wash that down, ever. (Well, you can take _some_ pills but it’s not suggested. Ever.)

He turns on the water and fans away the smoke. Then he pulls on his jacket and grabs his bag. “I’m going to my office in council hall, start working on my speech,” he announces. He then rushes off, he can feel the tears in the back of his throat and he’s sick, he feels sick. He gets there to council hall and nobody is there in the mix of offices for the Student Body. He gets his own office this year, simply because he was the highest standing of his position, so did the rest of the school council, the grade councils had each a meeting room and at the end of the hallway was one big meeting room. Newt goes into his office and shuts the door but doesn’t lock it, he goes and sits at the desk he remembers setting up with Thomas, he sits and looks around at everything. At the little trinkets and the pens in the holder and the ancient desk lamp.

He flicks it on and then leans back, it was getting dark outside, since summer was almost over the sun faded quicker. His stomach twisted and perhaps the paper was gone but he felt that if he cut his veins open he would bleed blue glitter gel pen ink. His blood would sparkle because he had methemoglobinemia (an exaggeration, then he’d be blue like a smurf, actually.)  Everything aches and he was just having a bad day, he knows that. It feels more though, and he wants the antidepressants to work but they don’t. He texts Minho and Thomas that he’s in his office just so they know he’s okay when they get home from track.

He takes out the notebook he leaves in the office to start working on his speech. He sits and he stares at the page, longingly almost. He was supposed to be the best of the best and yet he always feels himself to be the worst. He always feels… like he’s not enough. Never enough for anybody or anything. Newt starts to sketch, his pen moving on its own accord and he makes a sunset with a bird, wing’s spread as it drifts backwards on a current. He opens his laptop and starts to play some music, continuing to sketch.

His pen moves as 26 by paramore drifts through the speakers, the room dripping in the sound of her heartbroken voice. _When you gonna hear me out? Man you really bring me… down._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want all of you to know that If you are feeling what Newt is feeling, lonely, depressed, upset, or like you have nobody, somebody does love and care for you. I know it's hard to find people who care for you, I know it's hard to get through the day sometimes, but listen to me: You are strong and worth it. I believe in you, I love you, and I care for you, whoever you are because the world needs somebody to love and care for others. I love and care for each and every one of you and if you need me, or just a person to talk to or open up to, my tumblr is waldenbeckboys.tumblr.com I have the anon feature on my inbox, I think my DM's are open if you want to reach me through there, I am always here for all of you.  
> I recognize that a lot of the time you can use a story to relate to a character and that's fine, Newt is meant to be relatable, in a way. But just know you are not alone like you believe, just like Newt is not alone like he believes.


	7. Samuel Dimitri Newton

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We get the first piece of the Newt + Renegade story, Alby and Newt sort of get in a fight, the next day Newt feels like things are okay and Thomas just wants him to be happy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly, you know, I like this chapter? I think the banter is witty enough, the boys are just being silly most of it, but you also get a sense of how Newt feels about himself, the way he coaches himself threw things. You'll get more of an understanding of this as the story goes on, I hope? I would really not mind any feedback you guys have, any input, suggestions, or just comments! I really hope you're enjoying the story as much as I am?   
> Bonus: catch the stiles + thomas twins reference (idk if I'll actually elaborate on that that's too much but you know mAYBE)

_ Newt’s brilliance was obvious, no matter what. He always knew the answers, but Thomas never understood, truly, the inner cognition of Newt’s head, his latent understanding of science and medicine without proper training until they were hiking the mountains of vermont with no party but themselves. It was sort of chilly up there, and their boots scuffed the mostly untouched earth as they climbed, away from their cabin somewhere down below. They had caught wind of a wolf, young and sickly and injured. Newt instantly had taken pity on it. This is also the first time Thomas saw Newt truly take command over a situation. Thomas was afraid, Newt feared nothing, not then and there. He instantly drops his backpack and goes through the items in there.  _

_ He had insisted they bring honey ‘incase’ and pulled it out, alongside the wrap bandages they had brought, also incase. (their first aid unit, to Thomas, was full of strange things and typical things and all of it was incase, they had no intention on saving any animals that day) Newt keeps eye contact with the wolf, and he whispers that it’s okay. That everything will be okay. He lets the wolf smell his hand and he pets his nose, trying to calm it. Once the wolfs head is down, Newt clamps the wolf's mouth shut (temporarily) pops the bottle of Manuka honey and spreads it over the wounded area on his ribs, covering the cut with it. He then proceeds to order Thomas to hold the wolf up and wraps the bandage around it, careful so that it covers it like so. “I’ll have to give him stitches but this hardly feels the appropriate place. Perhaps we carry him back?” _

_ “You’re serious?” _

_ Newt nods. “Why wouldn’t I be?” _

_ “What if it gets upset?” _

_ “Okay, we’re saving it’s life Tommy. Just trust me on this… please?” _

There was nobody more that Thomas trusted than Newt, the two sitting on the park bench early in the morning. He had passed up his run for this, just to watch the sunrise together. “You’ve got to trust me when I say that if something was wrong, I’d tell you,” Newt informs, their hands lacing but just barely. Public spaces often felt unforgiving and watchful. 

“I don’t know what you wrote on that paper-”

“Please Tommy, understand that I’ll be okay.”

“You’re sure?”

“Positive.”

_ Newt loved that wolf. Okay? He loved it. Thomas knew it, as they set it on the table and he kissed it’s dirtied nose, no fear of getting ill from it, that Newt loved the stupid thing. He went and he got a needle, he heated it, and ran the needle and thread through the wound. Thomas realizes then he gets to see a side of Newt nobody else does, the god fearing amount of concentration in his eyes, how his hands just sort of shake, how he is effortless and wonderful and so very strong. Something about him, so overbearing and intense, was different than any other time he had seen him. Thomas knows then that what they had was different. That he would get to know every side of Newt with time.  _

There was a sort of fiery determination there that Thomas has seen before, a recognition in passing. It was god fearing determination, set on his ways. Thomas thinks that Newt is going to get himself killed with how much pressures he places on his own shoulders but he doesn’t say it, because Newt can silence anybody with a look like that. Even Minho wouldn’t dare speak out, for God fearing men or devil fearing men or men who just like to live would never cross a man who could look at them like  _ that _ . Like the world would just collapse around them if they crossed a threshold. 

Newt leans back in his chair and looks away before fully lacing their fingers and leaning his head on Thomas’ shoulder. “T Minus Five days until mum and dad are here.”

“You’ll do great.”

“The whole damn thing might blow over.”

“Babe?”

“Yes?”

“They can’t stop you from doing what you’re meant to do.”

“They can… Thomas I don’t make enough to put myself through those fancy hightop schools-”

“It’ll be okay.”

“Dammit what if it’s not?”

“It will be.”

“Tommy…”

“Newt? I trust you, I do and I trust everything you tell me. Can’t you trust me on this, that it’s going to be okay?”

Newt sort of stops breathing for a moment before exhaling. “I trust you.”

“Then trust what I’m telling you.”

“If I apply early admission, I’ll get a scholarship.”

“Right.”

See here’s the thing, Newt’s parents always wanted him to go to Oxford and nobody except Thomas knew that Newt’s dream school was Yale. Something about it just seemed so stunning and glamorous. So rich with science, so rich with culture, so rich with history. (And okay, it has nothing to do with Gilmore Girls- but maybe a little. Newt sort of loved Gilmore Girls, don’t you dare tell.) 

“You could probably skip ahead from all your credits.”

“Yale doesn't take AP credit.”

“Why take it then?”

“The challenge.”

“You make challenges look easy then.”

“I  _ should _ be in AP Bio 2 but they stopped offering it.”

“It was low interest.”

“Yeah well I had a high interest in it,” Newt muses. 

“Sure you and 3 other kids.”

“2 of them unqualified,” Newt agrees.

“You're too smart for your own good sometimes. It's not their fault.”

“Well it’s not my fault they were unqualified.”

“You’re too much.”

“Just enough.”

Thomas kisses his cheek. “I’m sure your parents are okay.”

“When they’re separated, they’re fine and lovely people. Except for maybe my father, his morals are questionable and I couldn’t tell you how many women he’s slept with. Or if that’s even the issue but you sort of start to understand at some point it is? Really he’s okay sometimes, I don’t mean to demonize them.”

Thomas nods. “I don’t really ever see my dad,” he admits. “After my mother died, I left to live with my grandparents… he used to yell at me, that I killed her, that it was my fault she was sick. Used to be a drunk.”

“Oh Tommy…”

“We’re okay now.”

“It’s not your fault,” Newt says with certainty, unlacing their hands to pet the back of Thomas’ head, hands carding through the strands of hair at the base of his neck. Newt was gentle, kissing his cheekbone softly. 

“I’ve sort of come to terms with that.”

“It’s not,” Newt insists. “If you have any doubts, you can’t change how ill somebody is or why it happened. It’s not your fault.”

“Thank you… He said he’d be at the semi finals this year… maybe the finals.”

Newt nods. “Progress I’m guessing then?”

“Progress.”

See, Newt had met Thomas’ Great Uncle once, he was a charming man in his early sixties. He wore rings of different colors, a gorgeous silk shirt that was tucked into his striped dress pants. Great Uncle Bram gave you the feeling that you’d known him your whole entire life, he intrinsically understood you, it was sort of scary. Newt remembers liking him, thinking he was cool. He made Thomas happy. He also knew Tommy had a brother that he doesn’t talk to very much, twins maybe, but he doesn’t remember. Tommy doesn’t talk much about his family, he gets why now. 

\---

Newts full name, unknown or perhaps forgotten by many, was Samuel Dimitri Newton. Newt for short. His mother wanted to name him Isaac Newton, because she saw him and said he was affiliated with brilliance, his grandmother said she'd rather have a grandson who was famous with his own name not another mans.

Very rarely did anyone call Newt by his first name, he preferred Newt. He'd always been called Newt, since he decided he liked  _ Newt  _ much better than  _ Sam  _ in preschool. He recalls coming home upset the first day. Three other people were Sam too.  _ “I'm Newt,” _ he decided.  _ “I want to be Newt.”  _

Everybody called him Newt, that's who he was. Samuel Dimitri Newton was formal, distasteful and really rather ordinary. Newt hardly considers himself to be ordinary. Though on his speech, formal as he his, he starts  _ Good evening to the lovely families of Star Academies students, our staff and our students. I am the new School Council President, Samuel Dimitri Newton.  _

“Sounds weird,” Minho says. “You don't even look like a Sam.”

“Or a Dimitri at that,” Newt agrees.

“Newt Newton, that's your legal name.”

“Newt Samuels?”

“Fig Newtons?”

“Oh geez, conversation over.”

Newt puts his pen down, and takes a cookie that Minho brought with the coffee. Alby never showed and so Minho got them coffee from Newts favorite place and he also brought a big tin of tiny chocolate chip cookies. God bless.

“Okay, so what's the form you want to take? Like after that?” Minho asks. “We need to address the budget we have, what we plan to do with said budget, and how we plan to improve.”

“We need to further address the other councils.”

“Also acquiring our council funds. Fundraising and such.” 

“Right.”

“So do it in that order.”

Newt nods, the door opening and Alby slipping in, glancing over the two. “Sorry I got held up after practice… I didn't know Minho was joining us?”

“He wasn't. You were late,” Newt addresses passively, working on his next sentence, Minho leaning beside him.

“I'm not that late that you-”

“I've been waiting for enough time that Minho got us coffee and snacks and we've started the speech. The simple truth of the matter is that you are late and I got tired of waiting. Life goes on, I've moved on, Minho's moved on, you can choose to help us or choose to leave.” His words are deliberately slow, thought out, concise. They're meant to cut, Minho recognizes. They were words of animosity, this was Newt saying that he was through waiting, and Minho feels bad for Alby- he doesn't know what Alby was going through, nobody does- but Newt doesn't deserve this. Alby could do better. 

“I… I'll go.” 

“That's fine. I'm not stopping you.”

“Newt?”

He looks up, normally warm brown eyes dark with hurt. His face reads speak before he's bored, Minho wonders if Newts hurt inside. If he is tearing himself apart for this.

“I… Im sorry.”

“I wish I believed you.”

That was the end of the conversation, the irritation and hurt that bit Newts voice evident and quaking. It was the ample emotion that existed in this boy that plunged the room to a shameful silence, engulfed in a tangible disappointment. Newt was always so certain in himself, that if such uncertainty and pain should exist, he's been done horribly wrong. Alby leaves silently, his body cold with the tremor in his voice.  _ I wish I believed you, I wish I believed you, I wish I believed you.  _

_ Newts hands rarely shook, but Renegade was bleeding and hurt and he had to fix whatever had been done. In his head, the theory stood that the young wolf slipped on the rocks and tumbled down hill. Renegade was the name he gave the wolf. See he always was certain but doubt filled his lungs as he threaded the needle. There was no panic now, but his lungs constrained. He wouldn't breathe until the stitch was tied. He was absolute in the way that if things must get done he will do them. Newt was not a person to be doubted, he'd give his whole life up to those who needed him. _

_ Renegade needed him. For weeks. He fed him and ran with him and helped him rehabilitate. He read books by famous zoologists and less famous zoologists and philosophy and all the things he needed to know how to fix Renegade. _

_ Newt was solid stature, nobody ever saw him falter. If there was such thing as human perfection, he might be it. Newt recalls Thomas watching him as he tries to remove the stitches, panic setting in him, his hands shaking. Thomas watching as he walked himself through the anti panic zone. “Who are you to be upset?” The voices tell him. “Why are you panicking you know how to do it,” they tell him. “Get yourself together Sam.” Only the voices in his subconscious called him Sam, because at heart, Newt knew he'd always be Sam, at his core, he was grounded to the person inside. The person who remained under everything else. The scared, weak boy. The boy Newt hated, the boy Newt wanted to be.  _

_ He sets a stern face but he can't control the tremors.  _ He can't control the tremors, pen shaking in his hand. “Get it together Sam,” he tells himself, never out loud. “Im fine,” he does say, waving Minho's look over. ( _ Fuck  _ his voice is still wavering)

“You're not fine.”

“I will be.”

“Don't let Alby get to your head.”

“I… I know he must have a reason.”

“But it's hard to believe him when he never gives them?” Minho supplies. Newt nods, taking a gulp from his coffee. “You were with Thomas this morning?”

“Yeah I just love talking to him…”

“Yeah?”

Newt nods. “I dunno… it's stupid but he feels too good to be true. Like it's perfect.”

“Perfect?” 

“Like in that unconventional, imperfect way. I dunno… it's  _ stupid _ .”

“Not at all.” Minho pulls out his phone and pulls up a picture of a Korean girl. “What do you think of her?”

“Church girl?”

“ _ Prep school  _ girl. Wants to be a researcher.”

Minho's parents were insistent he'd marry a girl that was Korean like him. And well, Newt can recall every awkward date story Minho's recounted. Prep school was an upgrade. “She's pretty,” Newt offers. “And she sounds like she's more than holy gods divine entity in a dress.”

“They're bringing her for my speech and the dinner.”

“Dinner?”

“School council has the dinner after.”

“Oh no… no is that mandatory?”

“Yes?”

Newt sighs, reluctantly slumping back into the chair. “Thats a whole new level of mental prep.”

“I'll try to get us a table together.”

“I'll sit with Gally.”

“What?”

Newt grins. “You have a date!”

“Dammit man. That's cold.”

“So I suppose that's our mood today.”

Thomas comes in now, eyeing Minho who waves. “Hey, everything okay?”

“Whatd you mean?”

“Well I saw Alby and he was upset I think and well I just… thought maybe you need company.”

“Come sit,” Newt says, gesturing to the spare chair beside him. Thomas joins and Newt gives a half hearted smile. “He was late, I called him out, that's all.”

“Samuel,” Minho says with distaste and they both look at him squinting at the two lines. “Why Samuel?”

“My mum says I look like a Samuel.”

Thomas squints. “I forget that your first name is Sam.”

“Samuel, not Sam,” Newt corrects.

“You like  _ Samuel  _ better than  _ Sam? _ ”

“I hate both. Newt feels better.”

The other two nod in agreement and Thomas turns back to Newt. “You're sure that's all that's happened?”

“Yeah I'm sure,” Newt said, placing both hands on his cup, far too aware of Minho being in the room. He knows Thomas can feel it too. “How was the extra work out?”

“Good but I'm sore now…” he says pouting before perking up a bit. “You wouldn't  _ believe  _ what happened to  _ me _ !”

“What's that?” Minho asks, perplexed and Newt is smiling amused.

“Go on.”

“Okay so I'm working out minding my business right? And Director Jansen- how fucking stupid we have to call him  _ director _ \- comes in and says something about drugs-”

“Oh no, not this again!” Minho whines.

“Shhh let me finish!” Thomas says, hands flailing forward a bit, Newt pushing his wheely chair back a bit, smiling softly. “Ok so he comes in, and is saying how they  _ think  _ but have no proof of doping on the team. And guess who he looks at to accuse?”

“You?” Newt says softly.

“ **Me!** ” Thomas yells before slumping back and accepting a cookie when Newt offers it, facial expression neutral.

“Its okay darling.”

“It is  _ not _ !”

“He didn't directly accuse him,” Minho notes.

“He gave me a  _ look _ !”

“Okay but…”

“An accusing look.”

“Will you listen you fuck?”

“Don't defend the enemy!”

Newt glances back and forth like he's watching a ping pong match.

“He's our principal not the enemy!”

“Hes authority and The authorities are the enemy!”

“What?  _ No _ !”

“He's the enemy.”

“So… after my one line-” Newt starts but Thomas and Minho are too far gone.

“Not the enemy! He's just doing his job!”

“Traitor!”

“Can we please focus on my-?”

“Newt I love you but wait,” Minho says before chucking a cookie at Thomas. “ _ Shut up _ ! I don't like him eithe-”

“So why are you defending him?”

“Because he wasn't signaling you out!”

“He did! Do I look like a drug addict?”

“Well..”

“Oof, that's rough Minho,” Newt says laughing.

“Quit siding with your boyfriend,” Minho says before his hands fly over his mouth and Newt smacks him upside the head.

“Minho! He doesn't know I told you!”

“Whoawhoawhoa-” Thomas says, throwing the cookie back at Minho. “You mean to tell me you think that Newt, my boyfriend which you know, should  _ not  _ side with  _ me _ ?  _ His boyfriend  _ ? Because wrong. You're wrong!”

“Oh so now you control him huh?”

“I do not!”

“What is happening?” Newt asks, getting hit with the cookie this time and he attempts to balance it on Thomas nose.

“Im defending your honor, duh.”

“I'm… okay?”

Minho scoffs. Thomas scoffs back. Newt grabs his notebook and whacks Minho with it. “Ow!” Minho yelps.

“Focus!”

“He's distracting me.”

“You're  _ provoking  _ him!”

“Siding with him.”

“What can I say? He gets me off sometimes, it's how it has to be.”

“Yeah okay, maybe I'll just date Gally or something and side with him. See how you feel about that.”

This makes Newt laugh, and Thomas laugh because Newt is and Minho smiles sheepishly. “Gally isn't your type.”

“Fuck off,” Minho mutters. “Okay you wanted to work on your speech?”

Newt nods, him and Thomas lean closer but the fear lingers, even if Minho knows. “Right… we oughta get started.” 

“You did start,” Thomas says and Newt lightly smacks the top of his head with the notebook. Thomas laughs, and Minho looks at it. 

“Sam… jeez you're definitely  _ not  _ a Sam.” 

\---

For once Newt made company on the couch, curled up with Winston. It was the following evening, they were watching  _ The 100  _ with Frypan who was at the edge of his seat. He and Winston were looking at an instagram post a girl had made and Newt read over the suggestive caption of the picture of the two of them. “I mean… I don’t know, comment something flirty back-”

“No Dammit!” Frypan exclaims when the commercials come on a cliff hanger.

Newt looks up and smiles softly. HIs body was languid and sort of felt like glue- and okay he might have done something  _ bad _ . It all sort of started at lunch, when he ended up on Thomas’ bed, bored out of his mind because today was just going so slow and Teresa had caught some sort of bad cold or 24 hour virus thing and well, she was in enough morning classes that his day often relied on her humor and vulgar charm to get him through the day. 

So naturally, being bored, and 17, the right thing to do was to climb into his boyfriend's lap. It felt right at that moment, and Thomas didn’t really seem to mind that Newt decided kissing his stomach while he read was much more fun than doing literally anything else. This transpired into them being a mess of limbs and Newt breathless as Thomas kisses down his throat, lips swollen from kissing. This exact moment when Thomas was about to bite was the moment his alarm went off, saying they had ten minutes at best to get back to campus and into class without being late. It was torturous really. 

So naturally, when Newt got home around 7.30 from 8 (Rob was really quite merciful sometimes) and Thomas was on the floor studying, they sort of just threw themselves back where they had ended, picking up where they left off is a better way to phrase it. Newt had never fully undressed in front of Thomas nor had he ever seen Thomas naked, but tonight was full of new and wonderful things it seemed, so when their shirts came off rather than just being pushed up, it was no surprise to either of them that their pants were to follow, sprawled on Thomas bed, in an almost awkward position as they kissed. It was messy and unsure and different, because they’ve never gotten to this point before.

And well, no they didn’t have sex, if that’s what you think but they got pretty damn close. There was a lot of grinding and a lot of teasing, and lot of kissing and Newt’s chest is sore, probably because Thomas bit bruises wherever his mouth could touch and nobody would see. He’d probably have to change in the bathroom during gym tomorrow because what is he supposed to tell Gally and Aris, who live with him, and are sitting on the couch perpendicular to him, how exactly those hickies got there. 

Newt blushes remembering exactly how Thomas’ fingers danced down his back, skittish and uncertain. The way their breath mingled, so rough yet so soundless. “You okay?” Winston asks, noting the blush on Newt’s cheeks and he nods slowly. 

“Fine,” he says softly, much softer than intended. “Just a little warm that’s all.” He was bundled up and it wasn’t that cold, good enough excuse. Everybody sort of looks at him before Frypan is starting up again.

“Like- okay do you think you could survive in some weird world where everything is all fucked up and all you have is to fend for yourself?” 

“I think I could survive,” Newt says, sure of himself. 

“Nah man, that’s scary.”

“Okay so? I know how to use a gun, I have an extensive knowledge on herbal healing. I can give myself stitches if I had to.”

“Okay but what if you had none of that,” Frypan defends and Newt presses his lips together, melting into the couch, hugging one of his knees up to his chest and thinking, cheek pressed to his knee before tilting his head up. 

“Well… I like to think I’m determined enough to survive-”

“Oh shhhh it’s back on!” Frypan says flailing excited, falling off the couch and hugging Minho and Minho laughs. He looks to Newt and raises a suggestive eyebrow before texting him.

_ Minho: You were in there with Thomas for a while hm _

_ Newt: wym _

_ Minho: you KNOW what I mean _

_ Newt: hush you _

_ Minho: I didn’t say anything _

_ Newt: nothing happened _

_ Minho: mmmmmmmmmmmmm _

_ Minho: your blushing _

_ Newt: I’m not telling you that _

Frypan takes Minho’s phone and shuts it, stuffing it under the couch cushion, Winston laughing as he challenges Newt to beer pong on imessage. Newt grins takes the challenge. Life was comfortable, he thinks that for the first time in a long time he feels at home, and a warmth blooms in his aching chest, taking over the tainted skin. He feels loved, he feels welcomed, he feels at home. Newt knows that this might only last for another hour, that his mind was always out to get him in the end, but he thinks that right now, right in this moment, with Frypan hugging Minho, with Gally and Aris whispering, with him and Winston playing beer pong on imessage, with Thomas in the room studying (and maybe thinking about him the same way he was thinking about Thomas)- it felt natural. It felt like home. It felt okay. Nothing hurt in that moment, except for his chest, but that was a good kind of hurt. 

_ Thomas: Ditch the 100, I need help with Biology _

_ Newt: ?? _

_ Thomas: no I’m being fr I don’t get cellular respiration at all _

_ Thomas: do cells breathe is that what this is _

_ Newt: ohmygod okay give me a second _

Newt pats Winston’s shoulder before he heads to their bedroom and Thomas is back to studying on the floor and the window is open, the room having been febreezed down. Their old clothes were in the hamper. “Yes?”

“Cells  _ breathe! _ ”

“Where did you think all the bloody oxygen went Tommy?”

Thomas sighs. “I don’t get it.”

“You’re hopeless dear.”

“Please explain.”

Newt settles beside him and takes his notes in his hands, looking them over. “So the starting point is you have horrendous note taking skills-”

“Are we going to have this discussion everytime?”

“Until you get better, yeah?” 

Thomas reluctantly sighs and waves for Newt to go on and Newt smiles softly, before he starts explaining. His voice is soft, the lamp casts a warm glow across the room, the moon shining in, the air cold. Newt is grateful for the fluffy sweater he was wearing, it made it feel not so bad. Newt glances up at Thomas and the world shifts into balance, and he wasn’t  _ cured _ , the voices in his head lingered, the weight of his body remained heavy with a grief he couldn’t describe, but just this moment, how the moon discoed along his features, the light warmed his cheeks, the way he seemed so warm, it made Newt feel like there was at least one good thing in this world. 

**List of good things in the world**

 

  1. ****Thomas****
  2. **Minho**
  3. **Dogs**
  4. **Cats too**
  5. **Renegade**



 

He left the post it by his bed, just so he could read it the next morning but he didn’t wake with Thomas’ alarm, and Thomas saw it, smiling softly, he leans over and places a kiss on what he thinks is Newt’s head. They had slept in their separate beds that night and Newt was somewhere under the mountains of blankets he slept with, the room filled with a sort of smokey smell from a fireplace somewhere outside. They’d forgotten the window, the sun was swimming under the horizon still, darkness reigning outside. Thomas gets ready for a run, but before he goes he kisses Newt again, glad to have him, glad to love him. 

His head sort of protrudes from where it was smushed against a throw pillow but he doesn’t wake, and Thomas is saddened by how sad Newt looks when sleeping, how his features are soft, and turned into a frown. He wishes he could take his pain, but he knows that life is never magically healed. The best he could do to help Newt is to walk with him, one day at a time, knowing that Newt goes through unbearable pain just to get himself out of bed sometimes, that there are nights where he’ll cry in the shower, or days where he just can’t get through his work, afternoons were he can’t breathe because he’s so panic stricken. But that there are good days too, good days where it doesn’t hurt so much. 

He hopes Newt has a good day today, because there are days where he can’t tell. So he wants today to be good. Good for Newt. 


	8. The Boa between the Thorns

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Newt has a panic attack the morning of the student council dinner. Rather than his parents showing, his sister shows, the meeting happens, and we get the start of the dinner  
> tw: the first part Newt has a panic attack, if you think you can't read that skip over it!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I am really proud of how this chapter turned out, I think it's very important and beautiful and idk I just really love this chapter? Happy Valentines Day! I hope you enjoy

Newt felt awareness bleeding into his bones and dripping into his skull as strong arms held him, lips pressed into his hair. He can't tell what the person is saying, he feels like a boa has constricted around his lungs, thorns from a wretched blooming of roses created with it. It was a pain he couldn't describe, the music he had used to fall asleep feeling murky, as if he was hearing it from underwater. The whole world was swimming and he felt like he couldn’t reach the top or the surface. He couldn’t breathe and it hurts, it hurts so much.

He leans into the arms that hold him, gasping, gasping, release. Trying to breathe but finding he can't. Hes immobilized. Stuck. Stuck gasping for air, in murky waters, drowning. He hates feeling like he's drowning. He feels his body shift and as one headphone falls out he's blissfully aware of the first real, concrete thing since he's woken in his submersive panic. It's the steady, yet rapid thumping of someone's heart, and he feels his throat relent a sob and he clutches the body holding him. He can't remember much because he thinks he's drowning and everything feels unfamiliar and scary, underwater.

Just barely does the panic subside, he doesn’t know how long it takes but it feels like hours, hours of slow and painful impending death that never comes. He breathes heavy and hard, laying in who he now recognizes to be Thomas. “Tommy?”

“Yes…?”

He nods, as if just checking, pressing his ear to Thomas’ chest, listening to his beating heart. The steady beating, much slower now. He feels like he’s sinking, the room is dark and somehow blue. He’s not really sure what time it is but it feels like an hour where reality is sort of distorted and he hiccups on his stifled breath, trying to bate the tears that are threatening to come back out. He relents, sobbing against Thomas’ chest, he recognizes that his shirt is warm and wet with tears. Thomas hugs him, tightly, close to his chest.

“Newt what’s wrong? What hurts?”

“I don’t know,” he whispers. “I don’t know, I don’t know,” he repeats. He can’t remember the last time he’d had a panic attack like this, he doesn't even know why it’s happening or what triggered it. He thinks he must have had a bad dream, or maybe he woke up and started panicking but just doesn’t remember. It doesn’t matter anymore. What matters right now is pulling himself out of it, but Newt doesn’t feel like he can. He doesn’t know if it’s possible. And so he cries his heart out, like Niobe who cried prideful tears over her dead children, creating a sea of impossibility, wrath and anger. He was angry with himself, for being so broken, he was hurting and he wasn’t sure why, his whole body felt like it was pricked with rose thorns, so beautiful and dangerous and painful. He felt like the boa was still lingering, draped across his diaphragm, sticking it’s forked tongue to lick at his inner linings, telling him to just wait. Wait, because it wasn’t over yet.

Newt lived his life under a set of rules, in which he followed them strictly. He made these rules because he had to and he knows that when morning comes, he has no choice but to get up, because today his parents are coming. He thinks black coffee sounds lovely but he will put a bit of cream and a spoon of sugar in it anyways, and he’ll probably light up a cigarette to dampen the sweetness anyways. He’ll be composed, he’ll be good, he’ll behave as he should and smile for all the people who don’t care about him. Life will go on as it should, because Newt followed the rules. That’s how it goes. That’s how he protects himself, he strongly believes that. He doesn’t like to think that the stability came from the medicine, he doesn’t want to believe it’s not working, the balance felt set. He doesn’t want to break the balance. He’s afraid.

He grips Thomas harder without meaning it and giving into a violent sob, his whole body wrecked and he thinks the Boa inside bites, his whole mind and body betrays him. He can’t stop, he can’t. Thomas hugs him and it feels like safety in a strange sort of way, but he can’t escape himself. He can’t escape the thoughts inside of him. _Get it together Sam. Get it together. What are you doing, crying about what? You’re better than this._

He only sobs harder, gripping his own arms because at least that way he can dig his nails into his own skin. He can be angry with himself and not hurt Thomas who’s so helplessly trying to help him. (Newt thinks nobody can help him really. He’s drowning. Helpless.) The world is collapsing in a mystic rubble and in the fall there is beauty, there is beauty in all things violent. How fragile he was, how helpless, how the tears would stain his cheeks and how his eyes would be red like his cheeks, stained with hot tears and raging, fire struck blood. He was fuming, fuming at himself. You’d think it’s beautiful from some outside perspective, he is beautiful, even when the rubble and ashes arise from the ground, clouding him in an endless mist of hurt and pain and fault. You’d think he looks so helplessly beautiful, and you can’t help it.

“Calm down, please calm down. Listen to my voice Newt… Newt listen. Please… this is me telling you whatever is hurting you, whatever you’re thinking of, it can’t really get you. I’m here…. I’m here and I’m real and it’s going to be okay. Newt? Newt _please_.”

Newt tries to focus, and all he hears is the music through the one ear, the song repeating and repeating, but it sounds like he’s underwater, Thomas sounds distant. _You can do better you can be better- look how p a t h e t i c you are Sam. is this what you want Thomas to think of you? Pathetic, weak, insolent child._ He can’t stop, it’s all he can think of himself, absolutely angry and seeping slowly back into panic until suddenly as if some reversal of fate, everything stops, everything stops because suddenly a new presence has stepped into his space. The boa curls into sleeping, no longer biting as the interior lining of his stomach, the rubble collapses to reveal a clarity, and the tears are still falling but everything around him stops and awareness is once more dripping into his bloodstream, he doesn’t feel so angry. He slowly processes that Thomas is kissing him.

He focuses on it, focuses on the feeling, focuses on letting himself kiss back, focuses on Thomas’ hands detangling his arms and wrapping them around his own body, holding his arms to keep Newt from curling back into himself. He focuses on how warm and yet cold Thomas feels to him, he focuses on catching his breath when they part. Dark bleary eyes blinking open to see that Thomas was crying too. “I’m so sorry,” Newt whispers, and he hugs Thomas, sobbing again but it’s disparity. It’s helpless.

“It’s okay… Newt it’s okay,” he whispers his voice wavering. Newt shakes his head and they fall asleep like that. He swears he’s hungover when he wakes up to the sun shining through the curtain’s, his head pounding, his whole body aching, his throat sore, his nose feeling acidic in a way that it does when you’re sick. He feels his body slowly rising and falling with Thomas’ breast, each breath raising them. He’s not totally sure of what happened or what came over him but he feels exhausted. He feels empty. He feels numb. The last people he wants to see are his parents. He looks up at Thomas than glances at the clock on the bedside table. 6.45. He’s surprised nobody came to wake them, and he flushes thinking somebody could have walked in and decided this was a scene they best not get involved in, that it wasn’t their business.

“Tommy? Love, wake up,” he whispers, voice raspy from the likely hours of crying he did. He shakes Thomas a bit and Thomas jerks awake, Newt shushing him. “I’m okay, it’s okay… just… it’s getting late,” he whispers and Thomas looks at Newt sympathetically.

“Are you sure?”

“I… I don’t know honestly but I have to meet my parents at the main hall by 9. They were due to arrive at around 6 and they have to go through customs before coming in, and I was told to be there by nine.”

“Going to first period?”

“We don’t have to. I’m not going to.”

Thomas nods and wipes Newt’s cheek, kissing his head. They fall into silence and Thomas knows it’s sort of messed up but Newt still looks beautiful when he’s messed up like this. It’s not a sexual kind of beautiful, it was broken and heart aching beauty. It was the kind of beauty that drove Shakespearean poetry and Victorian novelist. Newt was the kind of beautiful that was everlasting, never ending. He was beautiful no matter what, even when he was broken and hurt, even when he lay against the throw pillows, hair like a halo around him, eyes distant as they stared past him out the window, lips tight in a frown, he looked beautiful. Somehow perfect. His arms were scratched up, from last night, and Thomas thinks about all those romantic stories, about kissing the person’s scars, he thinks that Newt would hate it. It also scares him, that Newt could do so much damage to himself.

“I’m scared,” Newt finally admits. “I don’t get it… I haven’t had a panic attack like that since… well it doesn’t matter.” _since the incident._

“Maybe you should… bring it up.”

“No, it’ll ruin their trip,” Newt says sadly.

“Newt?”

He meets Thomas’ eyes and Thomas leans over and kisses his forehead, he feels Newt melt, that the reassurance was enough. “I’ll call them myself if it helps you…” he whispers and Newt nods.

“I’ll be-”

“Newt don’t tell me that… I didn’t know what was going to happen to you last night or if you were going to be okay. You’re not okay right now, you’re not… I don’t… I don’t think your medication is doing it’s job anymore and I feel so _heartbroken_ seeing you so angry and upset with yourself, so lost. I don’t want _you_ to feel that way and I don’t ever want it to be because I was there when I was with you.”

Newt nods. “I’m sorry…” he says, glancing at his arms, revealed by short sleeves, thin, angry scratch marks from his nails lined about his arms. “I don’t even remember how this happened,” he says nodding at his arms.

“You sort of… curled in on yourself. I don’t really know what was going on in your head.”

The melancholy was evident, it hung in the air, it sat beside them. Soft, sad song of broken boys with broken minds that didn’t know what was truly happening in fugue states of panic and fear. Newt doesn’t really know what happened or what caused it but he knows he used to have a tendency to be violent with himself. That sometimes, when he felt too claustrophobic he’d claw at his own skin, like he could escape.

“I used to do that, when I panicked I’d try to claw out of my own skin… like I was two separate people, and if I stepped out of the depressed, angry person it’d all stop.”

Thomas runs a gentle hand through Newt’s hair and Newt looks so tired but he musters a small smile, it’s hardly there but it’s enough. It feels muscle splitting to Newt, like he’s got the biggest grin on his face.

“You don’t need to be anybody else,” Thomas whispers, hands gliding down Newt’s arms before gliding back to the elbow and pulling Newt up. “You are perfect the way you are. You are so fierce, so strong, so smart… you admirable in every way. So you break sometimes-”

“Tommy-”

“No… I don’t believe for a second that you’re something wrong or bad because of your depression. I don’t see you any different. The fact that I know you’ll still go to meet your parents, sit in the perspective brunch, and socialize and then give your speech and the dinner, all without falter or fail, that’s amazing to me. You don’t have to do that, you don’t have to do any of that. You hear me Newt? You’re amazing, everything about you is. Your broken parts and the good parts too. I’m not afraid of you… if that’s what you think. I just want you to get the help you need, I want you to get better.”

Newt just leans in really slowly and the tips of their noses touch and he relaxes, not yet pressing their lips together, his hand against Thomas’ neck for steadiness. “Thank you Tommy,” he whispers before kissing him soft, kissing him gentle, with just enough force that it was a kiss but it didn’t have the fervor that Thomas was used to from Newt. It was gentle, it was clarity, it was anchoring and he gently places his hand over Newts, the other steady on his back.

There are a million ways to say I love you but Newt doesn’t have the will to write a list. Though the first thing on it is _Thank you Tommy_ because nobody has ever told him that before, that they weren’t scared of him, or his depression. Nobody has ever told him that he was amazing after that. They always told him he’ll be okay and that he’ll get better. Like they forgot he forced himself through each and every painful day. They always tell him how the depression goes away and he’ll be some superior version of himself. They treated Newt differently. Thomas didn’t and Newt was very grateful.

They part and Newt just leans his head on Thomas shoulder, their hands not moving. He rubs Thomas elbow with his other hand, kissing his shoulder. “Go get ready,” he finally says when he sees it’s nearing 7.15. “I’d hate for you to be late on my behalf.”

He nods, and Thomas still dresses proper in jeans and a tshirt, Newt’s leather jacket on top. “What? You have to wear a nice button up and suit jacket all day. Plus it’s warmer than my jean jacket so this is mine.”

“I don’t have to wear a suit until tonight,” Newt complains.

Thomas shrugs. “I’m wearing it, you can’t stop me.”

Newt flops dramatically and Thomas laughs softly. “What am I going to do? I feel my right to be emo and punk has been taken from me. I’m a mess, I have nothing anymore,” he goes on in a very condescending, exaggerated tone.

“Oh stop.”

Thomas hovers over him a second and they meet in a quick kiss. “Have fun in class.”

“Have fun at brunch.”

“Told you to run for office, you didn’t listen. We could be brunching it up together but you just didn’t want to run for council.”

Thomas kisses him again, and Newt scrambles to pull on a sweater before trudging outside and going to pour his coffee. Minho sort of looks on at him with understanding but nobody really says anything. He is once again greeted with Strawberry Shortcake pancakes and Newt sits at the island happily, Gally sitting beside him.

“You okay?” Gally asks and Newt nods slowly.

“I suppose.”

“If you’re not we can talk to Mr. Jansen.”

“No, my parents will worry and I’d rather not… I don’t know. I don’t want to talk about it.”

Alby sits across from Newt. “You don’t have to-”

“I’ll be okay,” Newt reaffirms and Thomas slips the mug of coffee beside the plate and Newt smiles up at him. Minho slips beside Thomas making a kissy face at him playfully, Thomas giggling gleefully before pushing him playfully. Minho laughs and hugs Newt by the neck, leaning their heads together. He always get really happy when his parents came to visit.

“Newt and I have a date tonight,” he informs and Newt swats at him.

“We covered this! I’m sitting with Gally, not you and your lady.”

“He’s my date,” Gally confirms and Minho sighs, hand reassuringly rubbing Newt’s collar. Just enough to comfort, just enough to be sure, but not as if he’s drawing attention to what apparently everybody knew happened last night. He hates how thin the walls can be. How sometimes people can hear everything. Quiet truly was violent, it was the standing perpetrator, the number one menace, betrayer that always revealed what was hidden in the blue darkness that tried to shield him from the world, tuck his secrets away. Quiet did what darkness could not do, and that was reveal the reverie in the sin. ( _But how can mind be sin when it’s God who brings about such compelling and complex mind of thought? How can mind be sin, and mental illness be sin when God was the one who created it? What a tricky thing, a divine question in which the answer is, God never said it was sin but man fabricated the mind to be unholy- for we are all criminals in the eyes of the “Saints” who did worse deeds than a man who cried from his own health.)_

“Ha!” Newt says soft but victorious, too tired to put any fervor behind it.

“Dammit,” Minho whispers.

\---

There in the midst of the corridor stood a girl with wild blonde hair and bright green eyes, jeans that were rolled at the ankle with flowers up her left thigh. Her shirt was a bright yellow knit jumper that hung down about her body loosely, another shirt underneath. Her hair was free and about her shoulders, long and complimentary to her pale skin, her brilliant green eyes. She seemed to glimmer in the late September sun, alone in the corridor. She looked to be about 15, and that’s because she was.

Newt saw her and his eyes widened with shock, though it’s not the same swooning shock at her extraordinary beauty, rather shock that she was there. Existing in the same space as him and when they lock eyes she perks up and the girl runs over with grace and carelessness and Newt catches the small girl with ease, hugging her close and her feet, covered with white flats didn’t touch the ground.

“Sammy!” She says with glee, and the glader boys look at the two perplexed. Nobody, absolutely _n o b o d y_ ever referred to Newt with his first name, not even his parents.

“Sunny! Look at you, how much you’ve grown! What on earth are you doing here?”

“Mum and dad cancelled sudden two nights ago and I got real angry at them so I took the plane here myself,” she says, her accent a bit thicker than his.

“What changed?” Newt asked, not really surprised.

“You know how they are,” she says looking upset and he nods, instantly kissing her temple and petting her hair.

“Well you’re far from it, no need to think of it now. Nothing upsets you here.”

“Nothing ever upsets me when you’re around to keep me safe, right Sammy?”

“Course not.”

“Shoot em between the eyes before anybody hurts your precious sister.”

“You’re probably a better shot than me now with all that time you spent between Russia and Germany and Scotland. Hm?”

“Proper shot I am. Best in my class.”

“That’a girl,” Newt encourages before the two are wound in a tight embrace, an assemblance of love and sunlight. Elizabeth Sonya Newton was the younger sister to Samuel Dimitri Newton and she was very properly the most precious thing on earth to him. She was his sun moon and earth, never to disappoint or hurt him. Sunny loved nobody more than she loved Newt and Newt loved nothing more in this life than his sister. They were the best of companions, even after they both went to top notch schools in different country.

His sister, unlike him, went to all girls school and traveled in her off days with their aunt. They hardly ever met in the middle, a day or two here and there, long extensive phone calls. They were, despite the circumstances, attached at the hip, sewn by the waist. They were two hearts designed by the light of the sun and god himself, meant to be intertwined in the cosmos forever. They were what brother and sister were meant to be, forces against nature to protect each other. _Protect your own_ was their strong suit for every night when she had nightmares as a child, Newt held her. It was hard to believe that his first two years of life were spent without such pure joy and sunshine.

He remembers when they sent him to the mental hospital, she straight cried and begged until they let her stay the extra hour every day. She stayed and sang to him and told him nice stories, even if she was only in seventh grade then. She didn’t understand it well, but she knew he needed her, and so she sang her pretty songs and told her rambunctious stories. She was so much older now it seems, then when he last saw her two years ago. They had only ever talked on the phone since then.

“These are my friends: Alby, Winston, Gally, Minho and Aris- who is about your age. Guys, this my sister is Elizabeth.”

“Call me Sonya,” she says, extending her hand gracefully towards Minho, head tilted with a very familiar look of certainty and confidence. It was the same look Newt got when he was so sure of himself. “Pleasure to meet all you lads,” she says with grace and confidence and well Newt seems a bit unamused with her flirting.

Minho does take her hand and kiss it with a flourish. “M’lady,” he teases and Newt smiles softly.

“Charmed,” she says laughing. She steps back and laces her arm with Newt. “Your friends are quite nice,” she says. “Where’s the one you always tell me about, Thomas is it? The one who is your roommate.”

“Oh he’s in class now, he’s not part of the council.”

“He disappoints us, we don’t talk about him,” Minho tells her shrugging.

“Is he serious?”

“No dear.” Newt pets her arm and as the others families arrive, they disperse. Newt was wearing Tommy’s jean jacket with a classy shirt underneath, and jeans to match the fit, alongside his all stars with the gold stripes. It was casual, the brunch normally was. He and Sonya start to trail off and she looks at him.

“You look tired.”

“Got it bad sometime early in the morning.”

“The dreams again?”

“No… panic attack. Poor Tommy had to work me through it, I right about thought I was going to die.”

“Newt… how long has this been going on?”

“That was the first one but I’ve felt kind of off again lately, you know?”

She nods. “Are you going to tell mom and dad?”

“Perhaps I’ll call him in private and go see him without them knowing. Make enough that I can get the downpayment myself.”

“That’s bull.”

“Sunny you know how they feel about it they’re not even here. I was gonna tell them when they came, but they didn’t.”

“I’m sorry Sammy.”

He nods and she leans her head on his shoulder. “I’ll call the psychologist. You talk to him next week. Or before I go, we’ll go together.”

“No… No I don’t want it to be such a big deal-”

“Sammy?”

“Hm?”

“Don’t let yourself fall out again.”

“I won’t…”

She nods. “What else is new in your world then?”

“Well… Suppose I’ve been keeping something from you?”

“Oh?”

“I…” he pauses. “This hard for me to tell people,” he admits and she nods.

“Well I won’t love you any less.”

“I’m gay,” he finally whispers and she nods for a moment before shrugging.

“I sort of knew that.”

“What?”

“Oh come on, Newt, you didn’t think I spent our whole lives watching you stare after the pretty boys as we got all over, talk that boy you dorm with all up and how he’s so charming, and he’s so smart, and he’s so great, and expect me not to piece that together.”

“Okay fine but everybody else was surprised.”

“Because everybody else doesn’t know you like I do.”

“Fair game.”

They both nod and she smiles. “So… what is it with you and Tommy?”

“Thomas, he only lets me call him that.”

“Why?”

“Because… that’s just how it is.”

“You fancy him then?”

“What?”

“Do you like him, Mr. Newton?” she says all proper, grinning at him with her eyes bright.

“Well he’s my friend so I must like him to some capacity.”

“Oh that’s not what I meant!”

“Well that’s all I’m saying.”

“Ass.”

“Sorry.”

\---

Sonya was whisked away with the parents and Minho’s date so Newt headed back to the room. It was about 5 o’clock, it gave him two hours to shower and just rest for a while. He chooses to lay in bed, going to the room he finds Chuck on the floor with Thomas, building something. “Evening,” Newt greets. “My sister came instead of my parents.”

“Is that good?”

“It’s wonderful. She’s a darling.”

Thomas nods, eyeing how his jacket so casually hangs off Newt’s body, how pretty he looks in the lamp light. He is suddenly hit with the longing and yearning to kiss every inch of skin Newt has, to root him to the bed and make sure he feels stuffed with love, like Daisies have replaced the thorny roses inside his lungs, like he is the flushed pink of love, the grandest, most wonderful person. He hopes, more than anything, that one day he’ll get to just the privacy and the time to kiss Newt’s every inch, to just lay his forehead to his bare chest and listen to his heart beat, how his pulse would press to his temple, how his breathing would be warm and audible in the room.

“Is that my jacket?” he manages, not noticing Newt was asking chuck about his project.

“It is,” he says, nodding as Chuck looks for validity in what he’s doing.

“Well, Chuck, I think you should go take a walk. A lap around the campus.”

“What? Why?”

“No such thing, he won’t be doing anything of the sort!” Newt says, trying to bite back a smirk, raising a brow at Thomas and Thomas raises one back. Chuck is confused.

“Why am I leaving?”

“You aren’t, darling.”

Thomas shakes his head, Newt standing up and taking the Jacket off, tossing it at Thomas’ head, letting it drape over him. He then grabs his sweatshirt and replaces his pants with joggers, then he returns to his bed, still undone and burrows underneath. Thomas softens it seems, smiling softly as he watches Newt and Chuck clears his throat.

“Don’t you know it’s rude to stare?”

“What?” Thomas asks embarrassed and Chuck shakes his head.

“It’s rude to stare.”

“I’m not staring.”

“Yeah you were. You were staring at Newt.”

“I was not!”

“It’s because I’m so pretty chuck,” Newt teases and Chuck shakes his head.

“You two are weird,” he says not really comprehending the relationship for what it is, rather his basic understanding of romance, being outright and simple, skewed the rather complex and ambiguous testimonies. The way the eyes begged for answers and the aura held a feeling of love. He missed the parts of the whole, because to a boy of 14, love was hand holding and kisses. He knew not the complications of love, the hard work, the tears, the secrecy, the intimacy, the soft, sacred moments that were shared between two. An inherent and true understanding between lovers was beyond the mind of a boy so young. He would never understand it, until he himself knew it.

Newt hides his smile under the covers, cheeks a bit flush. He keeps the blankets around him. “Wake me in an hour?”

“Of course,” Thomas says and he wants nothing more but to crawl over and kiss his forehead and pet his hair until he sleeps, but he just stares for another moment, until chuck mutters _creep_ and Thomas diverts his focus again.

\---

“You’ll be okay to speak?” Minho asks, just double checking as Newt is adjusting his cue cards. He nods and shifts in his suit jacket before smiling.

“I’ve got this. I won’t let you down.”

Alby is standing off to the side, everybody knew by now they weren’t speaking, everybody had heard. Alby nods his direction. “Good luck,” he offers.

“Thanks,” Newt says with a sort of faux compassion. Friendship was really the trickiest thing. It was much like love, where the conscious effort must be made. You must fight to keep long standing friendships, consistently communicate and negotiate and stand in the middle rather than polar ends, buzzing at two different frequencies of opposition. So much did Newt miss Alby, so much he didn't say it. He puts on his best Vogue smile, he shakes Director Jansens hand, he greets the other higher ups. They seem to engage in pleasant conversation for a moment or two, smiling… laughing… temporary… _fake_.

He glances out to see Sunny in a dusty pink dress with a silk shawl draped over her shoulders. Her hair was tied back with a bow, her makeup glassy and perfect. She spoke with Minho's date, the two girls getting along, he smiles softly, the stage not yet lit with blinding lights. Everything was sort of dim, but the lights fade in and Newt is the golden boy, shining with his dark suit, his glimmering brown eyes, his blonde hair.

Sunny smiles and clasps her hands as he prepares to speak. Everyone quiets down. Thomas is at the table with the other team captains, he has this gleaming look of pride on his face and Newt feels settled. “Good evening,” he greets, accent thick and proper. “To all the lovely family and friends who've joined us tonight here at Gladesville Star Academy, it's an honor to be here with all of you, and a pleasure that you could make it. We are all grateful for the women and men behind me, the board of education president Mrs. Starry Geller, Director of the board Mrs. Ava Paige, and The schools Dean, Director Jansen. You've all done a continuously wonderful job at maintaining high standards for education and keeping a fragile system kept. It's easy to let quality slip when Quantities are met but your hard work, effort and care for our school has been unending.”

Newt pauses and smiles softly as his praise receives applause. “I would like to welcome all the parents and guardians of our freshman class, thank you for joining us tonight and making it out here from wherever it is you came from.” _Unlike my own parents_ he adds internally through his bright smile. “Though you all must be wondering who I am, the newer parents anyways- I am Samuel Dimitri Newton, the current standing president of the School’s Student Council. I have worked tremendously hard to get here over the past three years, I’ve helped build a foundation for a more student driven council, and fundraisers that have gotten our academics to places they’ve never been before. All three years I was the Vice President and very honored to be. I’ve done a great deal of things to help the student body and I’m very proud.

“Though I am not so proud to ruffle my feathers yet, my last year in Gladesville Star Academies will be dedicated to the bigger picture, of the people we are becoming and how to drive our students to fit into a very creatively driven society. We have several budgets on our plate, our Sports Treasurer, Minho, and our School Treasurer, Gally will address these when they speak to you. I’m not here to talk numbers, just what we’ll do with them and how to get them.

We will be bringing back our infamous rummage sale,” Newt announces which really seems to please his audience. He laughs. “For those of you not familiar, the Rummage Sale has always been a donation based sale of old and quirky and fun things brought in by the towns folks, the parents, or the students themselves. We have the sale every year around April 3rd. We also would like to fundraise for two carnivals this year! One before Christmas Break and one before  the end of the year to allow the students time for rest and relaxation.”

Newt goes on like this, describing the fundraisers and his plans, all the while the the higher ups gleam with pride, Minho seems so intrigued by his friend and Alby almost feels jealous. Newt is popular with the parents, his joke are smooth and subtle, his wit is palpable through the elegant speech and he looks so gorgeous, he has this vague smile, this innocent gaze. He was enviously poised, he was perfect in the midst of his destruction. Like an angel arisen from smoke, Alby could hardly remember his grief stricken face just this morning, his quiet raspy voice. He outshone himself, he was new, and improved. Alby felt a bitter hatred, at the twist, at how Newt could be and simply be without being the image of depression- the broken, boneless, crying before getting on stage, image that was always planted in the heads of people. He hated how Newt could stand there and smile and be loved. He hated not knowing if what Newt felt was real, he hated not knowing what happened the night before, because he didn’t realize anything was wrong until he’d walked into the room and found Thomas holding Newt and Newt looking absolutely devastated and clinging to Thomas like no other. He hated that Newt kept his love secret, he hated knowing the things he wasn’t supposed to know. He hated it. He didn’t hate Newt, and he hated that too. Because he should hate Newt, but he doesn’t. He shouldn’t envy Newt but he does.

Without even knowing it, Newt glances to Thomas for approval and Thomas is grinning proudly, talking to one of the other captains. Newt feels his heart swell in his chest, letting Alby replace him for his speech. Afterwards is the dinner and he and Sunny are sitting knee to knee. “You’re like the king,” she says grinning.

“You think?”

“I know,” she says sure smiling softly. “You did wonderful.”

“Thank you…” he says and they both smile soft and caring and kind. She laces their hands and squeezes it.

“I’m always here for you, no matter what,” Sunny whispers and he nods. “Don’t ever keep secrets from me.”

“Sunny?”

“Yes?”

“I promise I’ll tell you about him when he’s ready.”

She understands without the name or even the context, she just knows and her features soften and she smiles, letting Newt kiss her temple. “That girl your friend fancies, she’s quite nice.”

“Oh he’s never met her, I don’t think.”

“Really? I think she’s lovely.”

“Newt,” A voice calls from behind them and he turns to see Teresa in a lovely dress suit.

“Look at you! You good as Hillary Clinton in that,” Newt says, accepting Teresa in a hug.

“You did great!” she cheers. “I sent videos to Brenda, she’s very proud.”

“Where is she?”

“Studying. You know most of us get a freebie because of this, not like that there.”

“Yeah,” he agrees. “You’re right. Tell her good luck on whatever it is she’s studying.”

“I didn’t even know you two talked much until she mentions it the other day.”

“It’s sort of a new friendship.”

Teresa nods and looks to the girl in the chair. “Who’s this?”

“This is my sister Sonya.”

“Pleasure to meet you,” Sonya says, shaking hands with the other girl. “You are?”

“Teresa. You look lovely.”

“Thank you!” Sonya looks absolutely pleased at the compliment. “I picked the dress myself and grandmama doesn’t let me do that often.”

“Well I think you’ve done a good job. Look like one of those fancy lady types.”

“That’s what they want me to be.”

“What do you want to be?”

“Like any other girl, you know? Sports, hunting, studying. Not a society girl.”

“You’ll find a balance,” Teresa says. “We all do. It’s the life we privileged people live.”

She nods in understanding and looks to Newt, who adjusts a strand of hair that fell in her face. “See? Everybody loves you,” she says proudly.

“Me? You’re the star of the show.”

“Not at all. I just look pretty.”

“Pretty goes far.”

“What about you? You’re stunning!”

“Me?”

“Yes.”

“She’s right,” Teresa agrees, glancing to where his friends are. “Everyone likes that suit,” she whispers and newt flushes and she laughs.

“Fancy is magic.”

“Fancy is the best magic.”

The three smile, and Newt is grateful his parents aren’t there.


	9. Lady Bird at Midnight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Newt and Sonya talk in her hotel room before bed. Just a sweet moment between siblings brought on by me watching Lady Bird for the first time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I mean, two chapters in one night! Go me!   
> this is another chapter I really like! If I'm slow at updating over the next six days it's because I have like a lot going on but I will do my best to get something up by sunday! please leave a comment on your thoughts or message me on waldenbeckboys. Always much appreciated, I hope you all have wonderful days and weekends  
> with love  
> Amirah

Newt had decided to stay at the hotel room where Sunny was staying at, so it wasn’t so strange for her, to be in a home with all boys and so that she didn’t get scared. He recalls before leaving disappearing in the halls outside the restaurant ballroom, in a small balcony, his hands laced with Thomas, soft kisses pressed to his knuckles. He tries not to think too much on it as he reads his book though, head propped on his hand, elbow propped on the pillow. Sonya joins him after a while, in her pajamas now, climbing in and laying down so her head was on the pillow, just against his arm. He glances down and smiles. 

“Don’t you hate them?” she says.

“Who?”

“Mum and dad.”

“Not always,” he admits.

“But they don’t care about us, hardly could care.”

Newt hesitates a moment, pushing her soft blonde hair from her eyes and fixing her with a soft gaze. “They do care,” he says quietly. “They just… they don’t care proper that’s all.”

“What does that mean?” she asks, an eyebrow raising. She looked so sad and innocent and it almost hurt his heart, that she could feel any sort of pain because of their parents. That she might end up like him or anywhere relevantly close. 

“It means… well… people like them, they see the numbers. The Cheques. Every day they wake up thinking ‘what will I make? What will I do? Who will see me wearing this and what will they think? Is my car in fashion this week or do I look bad driving it?’ They live every day, every single one thinking like this… thinking about the money, the material, the house, the car, the school name not the persons at all. They go on and on with life, everyday, thinking, if we present ourselves happy then we must be it. They don’t think about the emotion at the end of the day, just that if other people think that we are happy then it must be okay, it must be true. So then they fight and they fight selfish, because to them, they’re the only person feeling things. It seems so abnormal to feel for people like them. And so, they fight because they care, but they care in a twisted way. They care improper.

“As opposed to how I care for you, darling, I care proper for you. I care that your day has gone well, I care how you feel, I care about what you think, I care if you get the cake you wanted or not. If you like that perfume I bought you. I care about the movies you want to see, and I care if a person makes you cry. Caring proper is not thinking of the money, and fighting for the right reasons. They don’t know how to care proper, and it’s not entirely their faults.” he explains all this in a soft and soothing voices, the book put aside and his hand that was holding it tracing slow patterns on her stomach. Sonya’s chest rises and falls softly and she looks at her brother for a moment.

“Is that how you feel, Sammy?”

“What?”

“You said… as long as other people think you’re happy then it’s okay. Do you feel that way?”

“I… I’m not sure,” he whispers, and he can see the pure sadness in her eyes. “Don’t be upset, love. You’ve no reason to be upset over me.”

“Please tell me the truth…” She waits but there’s silence. She looks up at him and he’s just looking at how his fingers trace her stomach. “Sam?”

“It’s not… the same kind of unhappiness, darling. It’s a monster of a being, it makes you angry and frustrated and… you feel too much of everything. I want to be happy, I do, but I just… I feel like I can’t get up, like there’s lead in my bones. I feel… hopeless. And the doctor, everytime I go, says it’s just temporary…”

“But?”

“Sunny what if it’s not? What if it’s not temporary? How many times do we change the medicine then? What if the medicine makes it permanent?”

“You’re thinkin’ too much about it.”

“I’m scared… Scared that I’ll always be like this.”

“We can get you a new doctor. One who doesn’t say those things, one who talks straight.” 

He nods and they sit in silence, Sonya raising her hand to caress her cheek, Newt looking down in surprise at the affection. “You’re the best brother I could ever have, don’t ever think of leavin me Sammy,” she whispers and the tears brim her shimmering, shimmering eyes and he presses his forehead to his sisters, shaking his head. 

“No, I’m not going anywhere Sunny. Don’t think that way.”

She shakes her head and moves to wrap herself in his arms, pressing her face to his neck and they just hold each other, breathing in tandem as they clutch onto the other. They don’t let go until she’s steady and she leans back into her lying position on the bed.

“Had a boyfriend,” she admits.

“Yeah?” he says. She nods.

“Broke up with him.”

“Why’s that?”

“He was a bogus boyfriend after a while.”

He nods. “Dated a guy before my current boyfriend.”

“You did?”

“I did.”

“What happened?”

“He was a bogus boyfriend…”

They both sort of smile and she kisses the wrist that holds him up, only leaning up slightly. “What’s it like? Having a good boyfriend?”

“Really nice,” Newt admits. “He’s really nice, Sunny.”

“Do you love him?”

Newt pauses, and he thinks, tracing a flower on her stomach before a heart and smiling to himself. He recalls how Thomas kissed him goodbye, how he made him laugh by saying something stupid. “I don’t know… maybe,” he whispers. “Maybe it’s too soon to know.”

“Is it forever?”

“Haven’t thought about it.”

“It’s Thomas… right?”

“Why’d you think that?”

“Well of all your friends, you see him and suddenly your whole being is different. You talk to him and talk different, he says something you smile different. So it’s gotta be him.”

“I don’t… talk different or any of that around him.”

“You do…” she says sort of dreamily. “You really do.” She has a watery smile and he shakes his head.

“My first boyfriend just wanted to have sex with me… so I used to comply, you know? Let him touch me or whatever, but it got tiring. He didn’t care, and nobody knew and he was moving away anyways. For a while I felt like maybe I meant more to him than he let on but I was lying to myself… Tommy is different.”

“Last long?”

“Two months.”

“The other guy, right?”

“Yeah… been with Tommy for almost six.”

She nods. “Is the one?”

“Don’t know.”

“Does it scare you?”

“So much… always think maybe one day he’ll wake up hatin me or somethin. Or maybe I’ll catch him with somebody else.”

“Does he ask you for sex?”

“Not like the other guy.”

“Why’d you do it?”

“What?”

“Comply…?”

Newt shrugs. “I was fifteen… when your fifteen and a pretty, cool boy takes interest in you, well… you sort of… do what he wants. You smoke his cigarettes, you listen to his music, you sneak off with him and you let him kiss you. I mean, took me almost three years, to rebuild that trust, that somebody could want me for more than my body.”

She nods. “I don’t want a relationship like that.”

“Nobody does. Just one of those things that happens sometimes.”

She glances up at him and pushes his hair from his eyes, the long strands making him seem softer in a way, she can see how he’s remembering it. “Are you ashamed?” she asks. 

“Of what?”

“Of complying?”

“To sex?”

“I suppose.”

“I… don’t know. It felt… right at the time. Freedom in a secret, but Thomas is freedom in value. Freedom in love, and it’s so different. I wasn’t trying to decipher myself, I wasn’t kissing him in his car that night because I wanted to know if kissing boys was as nice as I thought it would be, I wasn’t… I dunno, being lost, following him. I learned who I was after those two months with that guy because… well god, I didn’t want to be helpless anymore. And you know, it’s not as monumental as it sounds. I still hung out with my friends, I still got all my work done, but it was like… a saturday night and he’d hand me a beer and tell me it’s good for me. Don’t believe boys who hand you beers.”

“What if you’re the one who does?”

“Then consider me a liar.”

She smiles and he smiles too. “It sounds like it was more than it was, really.”

“But Thomas is good to you?”

“He held me all last night, brought me right back to the earth… woke up and he was still there, there to tell me it was okay and that… that he’s not scared of my illness, just scared to lose me…. Nobody has ever really said that to me before.”

She nods and kisses his elbow, turning on her side and curling up a bit. Newt was in his pajamas too, he was comfortable and warm and he seemed content. “I think he’s perfect for you,” she says.

“I’m not sure if he’s perfect for me, or if anybody is perfect for anybody but I suppose we fit pretty good.”

“I’m happy for you.” 

He nods, laying down too, pulling the covers up. “I don’t know if I’m happy though…”

“Tomorrow, we’ll find a new doctor.”

He nods. “And I’ll take you out for ice cream,” he promises and she grins, cuddling into her brother, looking for the safety he provides and Newt wraps his arms around her and just holds her to his chest because the world was cruel but he would keep her out of trouble for as long as he could. 

“Invite Thomas too.”

“To find a therapist with us?”

“And get ice cream.”

“It’s very inviting,” he whispers sarcastically and she nods, as if she agrees.

“It’s dysfunctional much like our family and its niche in a way that suits us.”

“Alright, I’ll invite Tommy.” 

“Sammy I love you.”

“I love you too.”

“We won’t ever be like them.”

“No, we will care proper.”

“Promise me one day you’ll be a good man with a nice house and a kind job and that you and I will live together? Live nearby?”

“I promise Elizabeth.”

“Cross your heart?”

“And hope to die.”

“I don’t like that.”

“Then perhaps I’ll hope to fly.”

She nods and he knows moments later she’s fallen asleep when her breathing slows, he slowly turns to turn off the lamp of the grand golden, Versailles like hotel room, leaving them shrouded in sunshine darkness, darkness that felt like gold because of the golden wallpaper and bed frame and carpet. He slowly falls asleep too, and he thinks of Thomas, of loving Thomas. Of being loved by him, and how his kisses are sweet with care, and pure of heart. How their hands laced and it was okay, not laced because of a reluctant belief. He thinks of Thomas and how the sunlight looks on him in the mornings, when his shoulders are adjusting to the material of a fresh shirt, how he looks sleeping, how he looks sweating after a run. He thinks of how Thomas is perfect and he thinks that he loves Thomas. So he falls asleep, thinking of loving Thomas. 


	10. Churches in the City

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Newt finally calls his psychiatrist and then he, Thomas and Sonya go to coffee

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think you guys are really going to like next chapter?? I've started it, i'm a few pages into it, it really focuses on a key relationship in Newt's past. Anyways! This is just a sort of sweet chapter and it also develops a lot on Newt and how the lack of working medication affects him. Enjoy!

Sunny was in the shower, as Newt leaned against Thomas, looking at the catalogues he'd brought from the medical office in the school. Different doctors and institutions. “I just need new antidepressants, not a hawaiian getaway for the reasonably insane and regicidal. I don't  _ need  _ a greater appreciation of life, or any of the sort!” Newt bursts frustrated and Thomas, who had an arm around him, just squeezed his side.

“What about this office? They seem very professional,” he offers and Newt flips through, examines the number and considers calling. Hes momentarily distracted by Thomas’ hand traveling up his side. He's got to wonder if Thomas ever realizes he's not a virgin, and he doesn't know why it matters but it feels like it does. It occurs to him they've never really talked about it, their statuses with other people. “Newt?”

“Hm? Sorry I spaced out.”

“What's wrong?”

“Nothing I was just thinking about something I told Sunny last night… really it's nothing to discuss now.”

“We can discuss it whenever your ready but there's nothing to hide between us.”

“No… not at all. Just… Id rather continue on a linear path, at least for today.”

Thomas seems to nod in understanding and quiet dissolves between them as they view the clinic brochure as if looking at where they might go on vacation. Some hold these expedited promises of great health, upstanding leadership, all these things that are otherwise underlying and Newt gets tired of the repetitive, sunshine yellow, graphic blue, melancholy purple letterings and word bubbles, and pictures of doctors playing Jesodic roles, “curing” those with the ailments of sick minds. He tosses it behind him, and then another one with the question  _ Do you feel depressed?  _ Posed in big letters on the front cover.

“I  _ am  _ depressed, I don't need an examination to confirm what we know.”

“Be gentle.”

“It's stupid! You think people who want to help would quit regarding mentally ill patients or Their families like babies! Like mere children who know nothing. Its tiring. Its ill fitting. I don't  _ need  _ to rediscover life, I just want to get out of bed without feeling suicidal.”

“Fair enough,” Thomas says, rubbing his back soothingly. He knew that with his medicine not working he wasn't quite himself, he was angrier, crankier. “Okay… okay why don't we go to this guy,” he says picking up the packet that was most professional. “Or…” he picks up another that Newt just liked the cover of. “They seem more sympathetic- Newt? Newt breathe. Would you rather someone that doesn't connect or care about you or someone who will be able to sympathize with you?”

Newt sort of hides in his arm. “Yeah.. I guess. Okay we'll call the nicer people.”

Thomas kisses his head, listening for the shower before he tilts Newts head and kisses him, Newt leaning into him. His hand cups Thomas’ cheek before parting, looking conflicted in this sort of way. “Tommy…?”

“What's wrong?” 

“You know I'm not a virgin right?”

“What?” He has this sort of confused, twisted smile. “What's that have to do with anything?”

“No I don't know, I just… I was talking about my first boyfriend last night with Sunny and I suppose it just occurred to me you don't… you  _ couldn't know  _ about him.”

“Oh… well okay, I sort of am so-”

“You're a virgin?”

“Yeah my grandma has seven senses, I think she'd know.” 

Newt smiles. “Well god I hope not… I think we've been close enough to fucking that I'd prefer she not know.”

Thomas grins. “You'd like Nanny… she's stubborn and smart and calculating like you. She gets this look when she doesn't want to be crossed…” he shrugs. “You'd like each other.”

Newt smiles, smoothing Thomas’ shirt, kissing his throat softly and trying to ease his racing mind. The medicine hasn't kicked in yet. “But… I dunno, is that okay?” 

“You not being a virgin? I mean that's better for  _ me _ . I get a hot older boy and he knows how to do it.”

Newt snorts. “I'm not even that much older than you, goof.”

“Older  _ enough  _ that I can say you're older. I was born in October, you were born January.”

Newt shakes his head, looking at the brochure. “Only lasted two months… Jeremy Renner. He always had this sort of edge. Dark hair bright eyes… you know dreamy first boyfriend type. You were a greenie then.”

“I don't remember him.”

“Yeah he left in December of that year.”

“Were you upset?”

“No I had never been so happy in my whole life. Dumped him in October, because he kept… never mind it but I hated him.”

He nods, kissing Newt again. “Do you hate me?”

“With fiery passion,” he teases, playing with the corner of the brochure. He can hear the shower turn off, and Newt chews his lip, restless. He wants to run, he wants to go. Go anywhere. Go really far away, drive a car in circles. Drive fast on a curving trail in the mountains. He wants to do something,  _ anything _ but he's not sure what exactly. His blood beats soft against his skin, and he thinks of the small cuts still on his arms. He wants to erase them. 

He realizes that Thomas is talking, and tunes in as he prattles on about a book he's been reading. Newt rests against him, not affected in the least when Sunny walks out in Newts sweatshirt and jeans. She grabs a hairbrush, watching as Thomas stutters but relaxes when Newt says something, too quiet for her to hear. Newt seems tired, his whole body melted against Thomas, the couch, like he's melted into it. Ready to sleep. Newt sits up and gestures her over, Sunny sitting between his knees and like habit, he brushes out her hair.

Every movement is slow, concise, and gentle. Thomas realizes that Newt is much softer with Sonya. See, Newt is kind to most people but he's not the kind of guy that comes off too nice. Thomas remembers thinking when they first that because Newt was small, he must be weak but oh  _ god  _ was he wrong. The first time he came under fire and Newt was the one shooting, well he thinks he'd rather have gone to hell. Newt uses words the way some use weapons. He was good at it too. Or last year in March, a boy kept trying to get Newt to ditch with him (looking back on it, Thomas wonders if there was more between the two hence why the whole thing unfolded how it did- another story for another time) and Newt punched the guy so hard in the stomach he vomited all over the floor. Newt just kept walking and he got away with it too. Nobody knows what he said to Jansen but Jansen didn't do a damn thing about it. After that, Thomas called him Golden Boy for a while because Newt was untouchable to the board. Could do no wrong. A golden boy. 

Newt was often rigorous and hard hitting. He knew what he wanted and he got it too. He was hardly ever the kind of person to back down but he also stood for what he believed was right, he lead the group with no issue, no problems. And while Thomas was a leader, he still needed to be steered. He could drag the group into wild things and yet it was Newt who kept them together, who always made sure everybody came out okay, and more often than not was the one steering him. 

Sunny was singing, just an old folk song. “ _ How glorious the sun doth shine, how pleasant is the air; I’d rather rest on my true love's breast, than any other where. For I am thine and Thou Art Mine, no man shall uncomfort thee, we’ll join hands in wedded bands, and a-married we will be. _ ” She had a sweet, angelic sort of voice, a sort of sound that carried high and sweet. She repeats the song, as Newt brushes her hair and he feels that it’s rather domestic, to just sit here with the two, to let them go through their days, and their lives. To watch Newt be with family and be comfortable around his family. It was nice, that he wasn’t so worried, as he brushes out Sonya’s hair. After the second verse, she starts another song, her voice piercing the air with such sweet Melody. “ _ Though I roam ten thousand miles my dear, though I roam ten thousand miles _ … _ So fair art thou my bonny lass, so deep in love am I. But I never prove false to the pretty boy I love, until the stars fall from the sky my dear, til the stars fall from the sky.. _ .” 

Newt starts to braid her hair, leaving it in a thick, pretty braid, grabbing the flowers on the table and plucking them so they weave into her hair, and he can clip them. “Am I beautiful yet?” she asks, smiling softly.

“You’re always beautiful,” he assures, tucking the stray strands out of her face. 

“Good that,” she says looking to Thomas. “Have you gotten him to decide on a thing?” 

“Well we might call  _ Psychology Corp  _ how creative is that?”

“Extremely,” she plays along. “What do you think Sammy?”

“Maybe… we call the family doctor,” he says hesitantly. “The same psychologist I've been going to all these years.” Every 6 months. Every single year. They both nod, Sunny grabbing her brothers phone and calling the psychologist, the number saved there in his contacts. Newt takes the phone, arm around his middle. “Hi, good afternoon, this is Samuel Newton, I come in usually every six months for depression? Yeah hi… uhm… so I believe there's a problem with my medication, if I can just schedule an appointment… sure. Right sure I'll wait.” They sit on hold for minutes, letting time tick by. Second by second, slow and uncertain. They all sit in swimming silence, the only noise from the cars in the town below them. Thomas laces their hands, and Newt squeezes it, looking for something to ground him. He exhales slowly, and for just a brief moment the image of Newt smoking is very prominent in Thomas’ mind. How his head tilts back just slightly, how the steam from the shower fogs the image. He thinks he was in love with Newt for a time beyond their first kiss. He thinks these images he's painted in his head, they've always been there, they encoded when he saw them. How his hands shook, the light in his eyes, the way he sat now, arm across his stomach. It was all stuck in a gallery in his mind. He was an image of beauty, of hope. 

“Hello?” He finally says after the receptionist picks up again. “Yes… 6 o'clock Friday is fine,” he agrees. He looks to Thomas, who kisses the corner of his mouth. “Thank you… yes thank you. You too. Bye.” He hangs up. 

\---

It's drizzling and its cold so they get coffee instead. Sunny had given Newt a new ring and he adorned the bronze metal with the red gem proudly. It was a good look for him, just one of those little details that looked good on him. Newt thought it was quite nice. The cool metal warming against his warm drink, a hot mocha latte. 

Tommy was sitting between them and Newt casually admired how he looked in the plaid shirt that fit too nicely with his sleeves rolled up just right enough it showed off his muscle. He was taken over by the feeling that Thomas often got, to kiss and adorn him all over. To tell him he loved him between every passing breath. It was strange, Newt thinks, how much he he could adore Thomas. How easy it was to trust him.

“Next time take a picture for me,” he tunes into Thomas saying, and Sunny is gleaming. She'd brought her camera with her and Thomas was holding it- a sign of trust when it came to his sister. She was multifaceted in ways he didn't know how to be and some arts were more personal than others. That’s just the way of the world, with all people really.  

“I will,” she promises, taking her camera back. “Have you been anywhere traveling?”

“Last summer, actually, I went to Brazil after my trip with Newt.”

“Was it nice?”

“Amazing, it was like an entirely different feeling… you know? You just felt immersed in their life, the nature was like nothing else. And there’s all these churches and you walk in and it’s different, you just  _ feel  _ different. America is so godless that like, I dunno, you walk into a place where people genuinely believe and you want to believe too.” 

She nods, smiling. “Sammy likes the churches too. He has all these pictures of the churches of New York City that he took before you two became juniors, it was in July, he’d convinced our Uncle Albert to go to New York with him because mum wouldn’t let him go alone- bad experience or somethin like that- and he said they just toured the churches.”

“Is that true?” He asks Newt.

Newt nods. “Box is under my bed, if you’d ever looked, you’d see it. It’s tin, red with gold borders, says long live the queen on it, typical British paraphernalia you know?” Thomas snorts and Newt nudges him. “I’m serious! I’ll show it to you. We found all these cathedrals, where you’d just be walking, clothing stores, fabric stores, and then two beautiful doors that look like they’ve come of a different century. And you walk in and it’s all static air and silence, you know how nobody ever really goes in there, and you’re alone and you sit at the pews and it’s just you, you and this big room with the idols at the alter. You and your thoughts.”

Newt thinks of that feeling, of an unworldly godliness. How it was so silent in the churches, in the cathedrals, in the places tourists never went, as he walks in and the air doesn’t move, it’s not disturbed by him, dust hanging on the strands of sunlight that shimmer in through stained glass windows, painted to show no real picture. And it’s dark. The only light is sun. He recalls sitting there, and just feeling, feeling like the whole world was inside of him, light with something he’d never been light with before. He remembers clasping his hands and praying. Praying for a better life, for feeling better, for goodness on earth, goodness inside of him, with the sunlight shimmering and the idols watching with their lifeless eyes, their stone bondies extending their hands to him. As if welcoming. Each one was different but somehow the same. Tucked in the corners or awake in the city life, welcomed by the tourists. There were often no services, nor people inside. Rarely did he come across people unless it was a sunday. 

_ “Strange, innit son? That people only see God on a sunday.” _

That’s what Uncle Albert said to him one Sunday as they lingered after the service, just sitting in the back pew, surveying as people filtered out and spoke to one another. Donations were being passed around, and Newt nods slowly.  _ “How do you know… if there is a God to believe in?” _

_ “You just feel it.” _

Newt firmly believes in god. It was an intrapersonal feeling that didn’t coil in your stomach but set your heart free, it was like you were weightless and yet heavy with emotion. He couldn’t quite describe the touch of light that comes with believing in God, but he believed in a God and he believed in a Heaven and he thinks that bad people must go somewhere, because he believes that God is too just to let people like Hitler go to Heaven so he believes in a hell too, he supposes. 

“You don’t have to show them to me,” Thomas says, and he nods. 

“When we get home, remind me.” 

Thomas nods and Sonya smiles, sipping her coffee as she glances between the two. She felt happy, knowing her brother was happy. “They’re beautiful pictures,” she assures. “One of them, the light shows through just right. Uncle Albert took it, and Newt is wearing his brown silk button up, the one that looks absolutely stunner on you? And there’s something about the way the light just hits him from the windows, it’s absolutely gorgeous. You wouldn’t believe it.”

“I can’t wait to see it then. I have this one picture of Newt- hold on,” Thomas says, pulling out his phone and then searching for the picture of the polaroid he has from the night at the ice rink. Newt refused to let either Winston or Thomas post it, so Thomas kept it on his phone. Newt was skating towards winston and the neon lights from up ahead or wherever they were coming from shown on him just right, blue and eccentric. There was red just over his right eye, and he seemed, not serious, but just the right kind of neutral, thoughtful and gentle. He was beautiful in the light, no matter what, Thomas believes. There was so much of Newt in the darkness that when the light had shown on him, it was like seeing something worth reverence for the first time. Even now, with the darkness outside due to the rain, the ugly sort of greenish lamps that hung overhead with the orange specks showed onto him nicely. They made him soften, it lit his features, as if revealing the skin underneath. 

It wasn’t so much the boa that gripped him, rather the birds in the woods that danced to their own songs, and the grape vines and the tall, tall trees. Newt held similar effects to that peaceful silence of bird song and grape vines and tall tall trees. He was, to Thomas, the most beautiful thing revealed in the light. The truth of all truths. What he cared for most. 

“Sammy you always look so lively for somebody who is typically akin to fire.” 

Newt seems to blush, hiding behind his cup, his jacket hanging casually about him. “It’s nothing,” he says, the ring gleaming in the ugly lighting. Thomas wants to lace their hands and kiss the ring, he doesn't. Sometimes it feels  _ hard  _ to be public about things, even if nobody who knows you is around its a gnawing paranoia. It’s a jarring fear of being caught, even if perhaps they’re doing nothing wrong, it felt like being trapped in a room with your biggest fear (rejection, being attacked, being denied, being demoted for who you were.) 

Newt laces their hands anyways, because Newt, more often than Thomas, was fearless. Newt kisses his knuckles then lets go of his hands to once again cradle his cup. He sips at it. “We called her Constantly Constantine,” he notices Sunny saying, drifting back in and Newt is laughing. 

“Cruel,” Newt states casually, adjusting in his chair, knee raising for a moments as he hugs it before he stretches his leg back down. “Who was that guy you all called… it was something Lewd, I can’t remember.” 

The domestic feeling of home and belonging settles between each person with an arm over their shoulder. Thomas thinks, for a moment, that he belong here with Newt and Newt is so unbothered, for a moment. He plays with his cup, and he can see how hard he tries to stay focused. To keep his head inside of their conversation and not veer off. 

He misses the name but they’re both laughing, and Newt is so happy. His chest is bursting with sunlight it feels like, and he wants nothing more than to spend everyday beside his sister, for she was the source of his happiness when she was around him. She made the world feel less cruel, and he felt that he would do anything to protect her, to keep her nearby. He would do anything for Sunny and Sunny would do anything for him. They were both laughing and the world was filled with the laughter, of two kids who were forced to grow up too fast in countries they weren’t familiar with. The world was filled with the laughter of two hurt people who made light of the life they weren’t too keen on.

The world was full with Newt, and the world was full with Sonya. The world was full with their bright, abstract beauty.


	11. The Story of Newt and Nate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> newt's first real relationship only lasted 5 months. I recount the details of Newt's story with Nate in this chapter, their relationship from start to end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This will be mostly relevant to the Newtmas plotline  
> please leave a comment and tell me what you think!

They were just children, him and Jeremy, so it didn’t surprise Newt that it started and ended fairly quickly. He was a freshman, it was before the incident, things started going downhill and well they weren’t together a while before he left, but Jeremy texted him one night after asking if it was his fault, it wasn’t. He doesn’t even know how he knew, turns out he had a family member who was a doctor in the hospital. He tells Jeremy that it wasn’t his fault, and that they just didn’t work out. That was true. He doesn’t know what happened to Jeremy, and Newt didn’t really care much as he worked his way to health. He didn’t care now, and in retrospect, it probably felt as bad as it did because first relationships usually suck and well, breaking up usually hurts. It’s usually not as bad as you think as it is. Thomas, he had remembered incorrectly earlier when he offered that Thomas knew him, was not around at the time. He came the following August when school started.

Though the story of Jeremy is not the story I want to tell you. This is the story of Nate Grazie. He and Newt were together for 5 months, which is about the time that Newt and Thomas have been together now. 

\---

It started with his back to the wall, Nate’s knee slotted between his thigh and he grinds up against him, hand pulling at his jacket, trying to get rid of it and they stagger towards an empty room, nobody else was around as far as they were concerned. The door clicks shut, but they’re hardly aware of it as Newt presses Nate into the door, his mouth moving to kiss along his jaw, his sharp cheeks. Nate’s hands were restless, they were all over, pulling relentlessly at his shirt. Newt complies and it’s not long before they’re down to their underwear. They stumble to the couch and Newt lets him slot between his legs. Their hands were in each others hair, their bodies desperately pressing for friction. Newt fists his undershirt, pulling it up a bit.

And their moaning, moaning, moaning. They couldn't get enough of each other. Newt rolls his hips up and Nate is breathing harsh, pressing messy kisses to his collar. His skin is red but never bruises. Their whole world was spinning, hugging each other as they came. 

\---

Nate is an entire year older than him, he's the kinda pretty that's too pretty, his skin is tan, eyes that were slanted, always kind of half lidded. He was beautiful and Newt could vividly recall his face, twisted with pleasure, a blush graced his cheeks at the thought. Nate was entirely gorgeous, and he was kind of sly, kind of quiet, kind of everything and kind of nothing. Nate was, well Newt wasn’t sure what he was. He was just a guy who almost took his virginity. Right now that’s _ all _ he was. 

They were in a hallway off to the side, it was during lunch. The hallway was kind of dark, there was a door nearby that let this dusty kind of light in, and the hallway was warm. It was November, Nate would graduate in 6 months time. “Come on, I don't just want to see you at every other party…”

“Whys it matter?”

“Don't you want more?”

Newt feels his heart sink, and he makes to shrug but can't. “One date…” Nate whispers stepping closer and Newt feels like he's in a stupid romcom, like he's about to be kissed ridiculously, and they'll fall in love. He doesn’t really want to fall in love. So this was all pointless, but he hasn’t really ever dated anyone before, and what’s a date to hurt? Jeremy Renner doesn’t count, obviously, because they were just kids. It wasn’t the same. 

“One date,” Newt agrees, snatching Nates phone and putting his number. Nate watches him and Newt doesn't let him kiss him: Nate thinks he could fall in love. 

\---

He sits next to Thomas, they're talking about their math teacher, and Newt watches Thomas for a second, and he was so unconventionally pretty. Newt dispels the thought before it could make itself a home. He doesn’t have the time to even dwell on why he thinks Thomas is pretty because he glances at his phone and Nate texted him. 

_ Friday Night at 6.30? I know you don’t have a council meeting that afternoon.  _

The problem was that Nate was actually a proactive student, and he was smart. Cunning in a way. Newt couldn’t make excuses like that and get passed him. He thinks for a second, trying to remember if he was invited anywhere. “Do we have plans Friday?” Newt finally asks Thomas who raises a brow. 

“What? Why?”

“Nothing, just I met this guy at that party and we… clicked,” Newt lies smoothly. He’s learned to lie about these kind of things, to pretend like the girls are prettier than the boys, and that he too would kiss them if they’d give him the chance. (he wouldn’t and frankly he doesn’t really care if any of them gave him a chance) “Like in that way you just understand a person and we wanted to go out for coffee. So I didn’t want to agree if I already had plans with you guys. You know, best friends over new friends kind of things- priority where it lies.”

“You can  _ talk to other people Newt _ ,” Thomas says, confused and Newt shrugs.

“I know but I want to leave you guys behind.”

“We don’t have plans but if we did ditching once isn’t so big a deal. You know that right?” Thomas rests a reassuring hand on his shoulder and Newt relaxes, instantly, automatically, without thinking. It was second nature, to him Thomas was second nature, their friendship, being close to him. That was second nature. 

_ To Nate: okay, I’ll meet you there _

\---

One date turned into two turned into three. He’s working the closing shift alone when the door opens and Newt glances up, meeting dark eyes. “I thought you’d like coffee, seeing as you said your stuck restocking until 12 tonight,” Nate says, strolling up to the counter and placing a large coffee from his favorite shop on there. (the shop hasn’t changed, Newt still loves that damn coffee place, it was home in a weird way.) 

“Thank you,” Newt says softly, hopping up on the counter and turning his body so he’s on the side Newt’s and Nate leans casually beside him, kissing his arm gently, glancing up for a reaction. Newt just stares over at him, watching him with a sort of squint before taking his coffee and sipping. 

“You smoke,” Nate points out, gesturing to the Winston’s on top of his jacket pocket.

“Helps,” Newt says. “It’s my uncles fault.”

“Your uncle a bad guy?”

“No probably the best guy I know.”

It sort of sounds sarcastic but Newt is being honest. Nate laughs, standing up. “It’s a cute little book store.”

“Yeah, you’d think Rob was okay because this place is so nice and atmospheric, but… he sort of sucks.”

“Sort of sucks?”

“Just one of those guys that everybody sort of hates.”

“Sort of this, sort of that.”

“Sort of,” Newt confirms and they smile. Without much thinking Nate just leans in and kisses him. Newt leans into it, just barely parting after a moment and then Newt kisses him again. 

“I missed you,” Nate says.

“You’re a bloody liar.”

“I’m not.”

“You are.”

“Why do you think I’m lying?”

“Because nobody ever really misses me.”

“I missed you.”

“Liar.”

“Fine, believe what you want.”

Then they’re kissing again until something is dropped downstairs and they jump apart, some of the coffee spilling. Newt gasps at the hot coffee on his hand, shaking it off and reaching for a tissue from behind the divider and next to the register. “ _ Shit _ !” 

Nate laughs. What an asshole. What a real, actual asshole. (and maybe a cute one too but that’s besides the point.) “Dork,” he says and Newt tosses the tissue at him. 

“That was your fault, I’m genuinely hurt.”

Nate takes his hand and kisses the mild burn from the coffee. “How can I fix it?”

“Stay and put the books up with me. Maybe I’ll leave at 11 instead.”

“Deal.”

\---

They were lighting up cigarettes and Newt bursts out laughing as he puts the two cards down. Nate had this big room all to himself, his roommate left and he paid the dorm manager to keep it to himself. He didn’t live in a suite, just a single dorm. All by himself. It was bliss to be alone, to not fear anybody walking in on them. Even if they were holding hands it scared Newt, it did. That they could be caught. He wasn’t ready to tell his friends his most long kept secret, the one that could change anything people thought of him. He worked too hard to be respected to just be torn down for being something as simple as being gay. He refused to give people that sort of power over him, only he had the power to tear himself down. He refuses to let anybody else have that power.

That doesn’t matter though because he’s laughing and they have the windows open and a fan going. It was freezing in the room but it was fine, they were bundled up and Newt was wearing his sweatshirt. He’d told his friends they were studying together because Nate was behind in his chemistry course, and everybody knew that Newt understood chemistry more than anything. 

Nate leans in as they light up, they’re almost forehead to forehead, and when Newt laughs the smoke exhales, and Nate could swear he feels that laughter fill his lungs, take his air. If he was a bible story, he’d be Sampson and Newt would be Delilah. He was so beautifully destructive. Destructive because Newt could ruin him and maybe he’d cry but he’d still feel so strongly about him. 

“It wasn’t that funny!” Nate defends and Newt shakes his head.

“You’re so bloody fucked, who says things like that?”

“I do!”

“Bizarre.”

“I’m not!”

“Whack.”

“Whack?”

“Like a  _ whack job? _ ”

“Is that dirty in English or something?”

“I dunno, you’re speaking english aren’t you? Wouldn’t you know if I knew?”

“No like…  _ British _ English.”

Newt huffs out the smoke and settles closer to him. 1 month ago he would never have thought he’d like spending time with Nate so much. “It definitely doesn’t mean getting you off if that’s what you’re hoping.”

“Well it’s better than being crazy.”

“Crazy isn’t bad.”

“Would you know?” 

He doesn’t know about his depression or the incident. To Newt, that made Nate special, in some sort of strange way. He couldn’t describe it really, it just did. Newt leans in kind of coy, raising an eyebrow. “How do you know I’m not?”

It’s whispered, it’s faint, it’s challenging. Nate is stunned out of his skin with Newt’s confidence, because most people weren’t so confident with Nate. They thought he was too cool, they thought he was too confident, they were deterred by him but Newt never was. Nate doesn’t dare move. Just stays there, where he is. “I…”

“You don’t?” Newt fills in, still too coy, too close. He laughs, pressing a very brief kiss there to his lips before leaning back and picking up one of his many literary books. See, Nate loved to read. He hated math. He thought the government sort of sucked. He wanted to live somewhere foreign and exotic seeming, like Italy. (Newt remembers laughing at that, because Italy was just water and pasta and to him that wasn't’t too exotic. Nate says that water is so foreign that anywhere that it lands is exotic.) 

“Read it to me,” he decides casually and Nate moves between his legs and Newt hugs his arms around his neck, kissing his head. 

“Gladly.”

\---

Newt settled beside Thomas and Nate was across the library. His eyes lingered for a second before turning his attention to his friend. Minho was at the table too. 

“So you wouldn’t believe what happened,” Newt says. He wants to tell them both everything that has ever been carried in his heart, every single secret and scar, and every kiss he’s ever given Nate. He wants to tell them about Nate. He doesn’t and for some reason he thinks maybe he wouldn’t want to tell Thomas that he has a boyfriend, it just felt… like betrayal.

“What?” Thomas says looking up amused and excited. Newt feels his breath catch at his smile, automatic, instantaneous, not even on purpose at all. He doesn’t notice. Thomas wasn’t pretty at all, he sort of sucked, he worked too hard, he just wanted to be the Varsity leader of the track team next year. That’s all he cared about. And even if he’s bi, he’d never like Newt. Not that Newt  _ wants _ Thomas to like him. Don’t be ridiculous. 

“So I was walking down the hallway and Sam Bently, the girl with the super long hair, and it’s a kind of weird color?” Everybody had the name Sam, so he didn’t go by Sam because he was Newt, just Newt. He didn’t want to be Sam like Sam Bently, the girl with the long hair. Everybody knew  _ Newt  _ but if he was Sam, he’d be like any other Sam, not the real Sam. Not Sam who Newt knew himself to be inside. 

“The religious one?”

“Yes! With the orthodox parents… or whatever.”

“Yeah,” he says nodding. “What about her?”

“Well she was walking and this guy cursed right and she stops, right there in the center of the hallway and starts to recite some sort of passage of the bible at him before telling him he’s a sinner going to hell.”

“Jeez, what would she think of me?” Minho said. Minho usually had a pretty filthy vocabulary, he cursed more than any of them combined on a bad day, he cursed a little less than that on a good day. 

“Probably a very low opinion, you’re ungodly,” Newt says. Though he could feel that cathartic feeling of God standing in a church beside him in the empty pews, the long halls, he doesn’t talk about it though. The feeling was personal, made home in his chest. That feeling was his, only his. 

Minho doesn’t dispute it, nodding. 

“Anyways, I tried to calm her down because she was really going at him and then she got infuriated that I would stand close to her-”

“Oh  _ no _ ,” Thomas says as if he’s already anticipating how this would turn out.

“Yeah, anyways, she decided that I was trying to come on her and one of the teachers looked super confused because you know, why would I do that to her, and anyways I was trying to calm her down and she wasn’t listening, like probably ready to pepper spray me-”

“Is pepper spray acceptable by God?”

“Not sure but she probably has it,” Newt says. “Anyways the teacher stops and breaks it all up, asking what’s going on and she gives this bizarre explanation and the guy who she attacked told her to go to a nunnery, all smart and whatever and she thought it was me and whirls around and I told her that I said no such thing and the teacher is fed up- looks at me because again, I’m an angel-”

“Full of yourself,” Thomas teases, and they were practically gleaming at each other.

“Whatever. Listen, I’m saying how I just was trying to calm her down before she started yelling that I was trying to hurt her, but I didn’t want to do any such thing. And so Sam gets offended and well, long story short, she gets sent down to Jansen with the other guy.”

“Wild,” Minho says and he’s gleaming too but his head is faced away from Nate. Nate is watching them and Newt glances at him and his cheeks flush just the slightest pink. He doesn’t think anybody notices. Nate does, and he’s just happy that Newt is smiling. Thomas was just a friend right?”

\---

Right because Thomas normally doesn’t have him pinned against a bed like this, with their shirts off, with his arms around him. (At least, not at this point in time. Give it 9 months in the future and well… that’s a different story.) Never the Right Time by Janine hung in the air between them, slow, languid, romantically tragic. 

This was the passionate affection he longed for, Newt was adored in the arms of Nate Grazie. His neck being kissed reverently, hips that couldn't seem to stop rocking against his. Newt felt that this was new, being wanted like this was new. His legs spread to wrap around Nates waist, pulling him down closer. They can hardly bring themselves to part to get the rest of their clothes off. And Nate has these long fingers that are pressed to his thighs and there's a sort of silent question and Newt nods. 

“Want you,” he mumbles, biting at Nates neck. He thinks that his first time should be this way, with Nate on top. It doesn't really matter, he just wants. Wants anything and he doesn't expect it at first, how Nates fingers would feel. It was foreign, kind of invasive and lube was cold. He's gentle. Nate knew he was a virgin, he was sweet. He was good on him. And he just waits until Newt is comfortable, and Newt both feels really good and not very good at all. It sort of burned, but when you got past that it wasn't so bad.

Nate sort of brushes this one spot inside him and Newt can't describe the insane pleasure that bolts through him. Just all of a sudden his hips are off the bed and he's gripping Nates shoulder, moaning into a filthy kiss.

It's even better when Newt has his dick inside him but god its also kind of worse. If three fingers burned, a dick  _ really  _ burned. But god it burned good. Nate was slow, and Newt couldn't keep his hands off him. They were in his hair, gripping his shoulders, nails pressed into his back. And Nate really nails that spot again, just with the slight twist of his hips and Newt can't help but moan out. Quiet gasps turning into dirty moans very very quickly. And it wasn't very long before they were tumbling into release together. Nate throws the condom away, they agree to shower together, locking both joint bathroom doors.

Newt sort of melts into the tiles and Nate seems to blend into the water.  _ Everything  _ burns, but a shower sort of helps. They mix like water colors, merged into a kiss and everything was breathless, perfect. Newt can still hear his sighs and moans ringing in his ears, he can still recall some of the noises he didn’t think he could make. It was perfect, that’s how it felt. Perfect. 

“Good?”

“I think yes?”

“Was that a cohesive sentence?”

“No…” Newt says and they're both kind of sex drunk, foreheads falling together as they giggle. It was romantic in that tumblr blog kind of way, and they cuddled and when Newts hair was dried and brushed and he was in his own clothes again, certain he can walk… well, that's when he left. He always had a limp, but his limp was just a little more prominent now. Just a little more there. Nobody said anything, just figured it hurt or something. And Newt had something from Nate Tommy couldn't have. ( _ Yet _ ) though every now and again he thinks of how Thomas would feel against his skin.

\----

“I think it was pretentious,” Newt said. “The whole bloody movie was but like… just the one thing through me off. You know?”

“Yeah,” Nate agrees, the two walking side by side back to campus. As the lamp light hits Newts features, he thinks that's the moment he fell in love, with the lighting hitting Newt just right, his hair over his eyes as he looks down at the ground. He’s talking, and Nate is just sort of agreeing because all he can think is that Newt looks kind of perfect, and Newt looks so vulnerable. He wants to believe he knew everything about Newt, but he didn’t know about the pills or the depression or the incident two summers ago now. 

\---

He hates Thomas. Nate hates him. It's the way they always look at each other, he always makes Newt laugh. They share a room. Thomas gets the stories first and sometimes Newt forgets them by the time they see each other. They never said love but Nate loved Newt. He likes to think Newt loved him back.

Newt didn't. 

\---

They were in Nates room, Newt on the floor laughing and he sits up and steals the cigarette. The thing about a school in the North was that it was  _ always  _ cold. Always. Right now at 7 pm? Cold. Fan on? Freezing. Newt was wearing a blanket like a cloak. 

Newt huffs out the smoke, laughing as Nate kisses his neck. Nate smiles too, Newt holding him by the hair, encouraging him. “You know what I love?”

“What's that?” Newt asks.

“The way you look when I do something that  _ feels good _ . Like your mouth sort of drops and your eyes shut… you look so pretty, always.”

Newt grins. “ _ Skeeze _ ,” he teases. 

“Don't you mean Sleaze?”

“I meant what I said,” he responds and they're giggling. Newt wants to love him, love him so bad. Newt wants to love him forever. If he thinks hard enough he can pretend that he loves Nate and maybe that's enough. Right? 

“You're pretty, you deserve to know.”

“Pretty all the time?”

“All the time.”

Newt kisses him, long and lingering. They refuse to part until they're out of breath. “You're pretty too,” he cooes, soft and airy.

\---

Newt thinks he likes when their clothes come off. Though this time he has the upper hand and Nate walks him through it. What to do, and how. They're not really in sync, not at first, but they sort of catch onto each other. Newt thinks the burn in his back from fucking Nate is  _ way _ more comfortable than the one between his legs. And afterwards he stays over. 

He kisses Nates chest affectionately. “Pretty when you cum,” he mumbles. 

“Skeeze.”

“I get that from  _ you, _ mister.”

They both grin sleepily. 

Newt wakes up from a nightmare and wiggles out from Nates arms. “Newt?”

“I… I have to go,” he mumbles incoherently. “Gotta…” he pulls on his clothes and Nate grabs him.

“Talk to me… baby what's wrong?”

“I… I promise I'll tell you later. Just… I need… doesn't matter… I've gotta go.”

Nate nods, he understood that this was bigger than what he knew of Newt. He'd never seen Newt look so afraid before.

\---

They were fighting. It's been 4 months. “There's nothing there, Newt!”

“You were all  _ over  _ each other!”

“What about Tommy huh? You're always all over him!”

“Thomas, his name is Thomas.”

“What?”

“I'm not all over him. His name is Thomas.”

“You are!”

“He's my best friend, sitting next to him, sharing a dorm? That's not all over Nate.”

“He looks at you different.”

“You're crazy. She kissed your neck, you didn't say anything.”

“What did you want me to say?” 

“For her to  _ stop _ .” This wasn't going anywhere. It's been an hour. He's tired. “You know what?” He grabs his jacket in haste. “Forget it. It's nothing.”  _ Sam your paranoid.  _ That's what the voices say. But hes not, hes not, he's not. She was kissing him and he wasn't stopping her. 

Nate panics and grabs him, his jacket on one arm. “Wait… no, no don't go. I'll fix it. I'll do anything. Newt please… please I'm sorry.”

Newt believes him. What else can he do?

He lets him kiss him, Nate convinces him to stay. 

\---

He cared too much about him, he knows this. Newt cares too much. He thinks it might be love but it doesn't feel right. He knew love to be something that shone from within, just like the godly feeling that he sometimes got. The feeling he got when he prayed in a church, facing God himself with no other person around. The feeling he got when he was with his sister, that bright love and hope she gave him, the feeling he got around… Well it just wasn’t the same. It didn’t matter who he felt love with, so much as he knew that he didn’t feel it with Nate. 

He hated that. That he couldn’t love Nate because Nate is sleeping on his shoulder and he can’t seem to make it feel right anymore. He doesn’t like him like he used to. He slowly untangles himself and gets dressed. He just sits on the floor, head in his hands for a while. 

\---

Sometimes, on nights like this, Newt felt genuinely happy with him. Everything felt warm, and elating. It was January but Newt was coiled in the warmth brought by Nate. They were sharing a lava cake, in the back of a cafe on the other side of town. They were hidden away in a booth, Newt’s collar popped up. They kissed soundly, chocolate kisses pressed to sweet lips. Newt felt that he could live the rest of his life this content with somebody. The rest of his life this happy. It was his birthday, January 5th. Well, it was the weekend before his birthday, on his actual Birthday he was celebrating with his friends. The people he talked to in public.

Nate smiles. “One day we’ll tell them right?”

“My friends?”

“Yeah…”

Newt nods. “We’ll tell them.” 

And then he’s being kissed again and it’s not as private as they think it is, Newt’s hand pressed to Nate’s neck firmly. “Okay… okay okay, come on we have to finish the cake before they kick us out for indecency.”

Nate laughs and steals one more chocolate flavored peck and then he goes back to feeding Newt the cake. Newt crosses his eyes playfully, making Nate laugh. He forgets why he ever wanted to leave Nate in the first place.

\---

“I can’t trust you! I can’t! You keep doing this, where other people are just as okay to touch as it is to touch me. Why is this so hard for you? This isn’t an open relationship last time I checked.”

“Newt stop you’re-”

“No! No I can’t do this tonight.”

“Newt-”

Nate grabs his arm forcefully and Newt whips around so fast Nate steps back instantly. “Don’t you dare do touch me. Okay? You don’t control me, don’t think for a second you do. I said it’s done. When you decide that I’m important to you-”

“You  _ are _ ! Newt just listen… I didn’t do anything with him.”

“You didn’t? So it makes a lot of bloody sense that you two were-”

“We were just sitting together! He’s my friend, that’s all there is.”

Newt shakes his head. Why was he doing this? Why did it always feel like there was a problem? Maybe he was just pushing him away, maybe it was more than that. He doesn’t know. He doesn’t… Newt feels the tears building up and god, he is not about to let Nate see him cry. He has too much pride for that. 

“I have to go,” Newt whispers and he rushes back to their suite, and he shuts the door to the bedroom and he pulls Thomas into a hug, sobbing into his chest. Sobbing as if he’d lost someone. He doesn’t think he’d ever talk to Nate again, maybe because it just felt like it was over, maybe because that Guy was so close to Nate, his hands so flirtatiously skitting over his arm. Suggesting something more. Maybe Newt was just jealous and reading it wrong. It doesn’t matter. Newt lost his first boyfriend. 

_ Nate: Please answer Newt _

_ Nate: I’m sorry I’m so sorry let me fix it _

_ Nate: I swear I wasn’t going to let anything happen _

_ Nate: you’re ignoring me okay but I miss you baby I told you things would change, haven’t they changed? _

_ Nate: Baby… please _

_ \--- _

Everybody saw it. Nate was following Newt and whispering to him. “Just I promise if you leave school this one time-” and then he whirled around and punched him straight in the gut, so hard that Nate staggered back before vomiting all over the floor away from Newt. Newt didn’t even know he could hit with so much force, he felt sorry but also Nate sort of deserved it. 

Maybe we should start from the beginning though. Since last night Nate wouldn’t leave him alone. Text after text after text. It was obsessive. It was too much. Newt blocked him, muted his phone, hid it in the drawer. Thomas just watched idly with sadness. He didn’t know what was going on but god bless him for being around. For being there for him. 

Then Newt is there in the corridor that leads to the council hall, and well there is Nate with flowers. “Just leave with me,” he says and Newt tries to walk past him but Nate pulls him back, forcefully. 

“No.”

“Take the flowers at least. Let me talk to you.”

“ _ No _ .” 

Newt whirls around, at least maybe he can run in the other direction but Nate is right behind him and it was in the secrecy of that corridor that he pulls Newt closer. Newt is seething, he hates this, he wants to cry. “Leave me alone,” Newt whispers and Nate kisses his cheek. Newt shuts his eyes, willing himself to be strong. He didn’t need the affection, he didn’t need the attention. He didn’t need Nate. It wasn’t going to change and if this is him when Newt denies his apology, what will happen later, when he denies more? 

“Nate… please let go,” Newt says calmly but Nate won’t so he pushes him away and starts walking in the other direction, feeling a little panicked. 

“Newt just leave school with me you won’t regret it.”

“I said no!”

They were in the broad daylight, out in the hallways. He doesn’t even see his friends staring. Newt lived his life according to a set of rules, he never did certain things because they kept him in check, they pieced his life together. Newt didn’t tell Nate about these rules, he didn’t have to and Nate sure as hell wasn’t about to know now. But for Nate to constantly push, and push and push-

“Newt if you just leave school this one time-”

“Fuck off!” 

“Just I promise if you leave the school this one time-”

And that’s when Newt hit him. He couldn’t take it, he couldn’t listen to this, he could still feel the violent touch of his hand, the forced kisses to his face and it made his blood boil. He realizes everybody is watching and he’s soon sitting in Director Jansens office, trying not to cry. Not because he was in trouble but because this was all too much. 

“Director Jansen… I… I didn’t mean to hurt him just… he wouldn’t stop and i-”

“Newt violence is not the answer,” he says calmly. 

“I broke up with him last night, he wouldn’t stop!” Newt blurts out and Jansen seems surprised. “Please, just… don’t suspend me. Anything, I’ll take anything just not a suspension. He… he kept pulling me closer and trying to get me to leave with him, and… I couldn’t… I don’t… I just… I was afraid and he kept asking, saying that if I just left with him- I punched him, because I wanted him to get the point.”

Director Jansen nods slowly. “Newt…” he presses his lips together. Rarely did such violence breed in his school, he trained the boys and girls through years of education to see each other as equals, and when it did occur, the victim was protected and the abuser suffered. Always. He thinks Newt had to know that but Newt looks terrified and upset and Jansen knew he really sucked sometimes, that he had to be harsh, but he was not about to tell this 17 year old boy that it was okay that he got groped and harrassed and hurt and would get in trouble for defending himself. “Your secret is safe with me.”

Newt lets out a shuddered breath, hugging his sides a bit. “Thank you,” he whispers. “Don’t… don’t be too hard on him, I… I don’t know what… I don’t know.” he shakes his head. 

“Would you prefer to speak to our school psychologist?”

“No… please just let me go to class.”

Director Jansen nods. “You can go home if you’d like?”

“No… no please just-”

“Newt? Calm down, I’m just trying to help you.” Newt nods and Director Jansen gives him a pass to the nurse. “When you’re ready, you can go to class. I think right now, you need to lay down a bit. Okay? I promise this is not a punishment, this not me saying anything about  _ you  _ as a person. I just don’t think you can handle going to whatever insane genius course your taking during this period of the day with so much emotional baggage. Nobody can. Okay? And I won’t say a thing to any of your teachers about our chat, just that you weren’t feeling so good. Forgot your medication or something, okay?”

“Thank you Director Jansen,” Newt whispers and he takes the pass and goes to the nurses office to lie down. 

\---

It was before the road trip with Thomas, and Nate was packing his stuff in his car. He stops, mid walk and heads over to the car. He’s not even entirely sure why. They just stare at each other for a while.

“I’m sorry,” Nate says.

“Yeah me too…” Newt replies and they’re silent for a while longer. 

“I loved you… I don’t think that feeling will ever go away.”

“I…” Newt takes a deep breath. “I wish I felt the same. Everyday, every time I was around you… I just knew how you felt, I could tell but I never… I never could. I couldn’t bring myself too. And I am so sorry… But you made me happy, okay? Just… I couldn’t trust you. I deserve better than that.”

“You do…” Nate agrees. “And I think I know why you never loved me. But it’s okay.” Newt is confused but Nate shrugs and Newt takes a breath before kissing him on the cheek. 

“Goodbye Nate.”

“Goodbye Newt.” 

He steps back and Nate closes his trunk before climbing into the car and Newt just watches him drive away. The parking lot empty and dust filled. Little did he know Thomas had witnessed some of this interaction, and he eventually approaches him and wraps an arm around Newt who, like second nature, leans into it. “I’m almost done packing,” Newt says. “We ought’a go say goodbye to the others for the summer.”

“Yeah…” Thomas agrees and Newt does his best to smile. Thomas just smiles back. Newt realizes then, maybe he felt more for Thomas than he ever let himself believe. 


	12. Drink from Me Drink from Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Newt has entered recovery, and Minho looks back on the incident. It's Thomas' birthday! They throw him a surprise party  
> song to listen to for this chapter: Hymn for the Weekend by Coldplay

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want to say that I rewrote this chapter not once but 3 times and it took me about 6 hours to rewrite it the third time and it's like past midnight, I'm exhausted, but I am really happy with how this chapter came out even though tonight has been like such a struggle for me???? anyways please feel free to leave a comment or SOMETHING because this chapter took a lot of effort for me and idk you just need validation for what you do sometimes.  
> TUMBLR: waldenbeckboys.tumblr.com  
> and obviously you can leave comments anon or not here too  
> thank you for reading I am endlessly appreciative for anybody who reads my work??? Like idk it's just so nice of you guys  
> shoutout to decedentnewt on tumblr for adding me to their fic rec list! that was super sweet  
> Enjoy the chapter! check out the song that goes with, Hymn for the Weekend makes me feel a lot of feelings you know and especially for the party scene it just fits

_The vacancy of the room was eerily silent, even if Newt was lying on the bed, he wasn’t really there. Minho knew that he might never get Newt back but he wasn’t so sure how to explain to people what had happened. Everybody would either know or not have heard a thing. He hopes, for Newt’s sake, that the outcome is the latter rather than the former. Everything is solidly empty, and the world is nothing but linoleum and fluorescence and the strong smell of disinfectant. Newt had three tubes in his small, sinewy body, IV’s that kept him breathing. His whole left leg was in a cast. They said he’d be able to walk but it’d be sort of different. That was if he lived. Minho, at 15, never expected to encounter something so scary, and he feels his chest tighten and spear. He laces hands with Newt and as if he is praying, lays his forehead to Newt’s hand and sobs. Sobs the silent call to God to heal the wounds of his friend._

_Minho grew up believing in God, he was told that God will always fix everything there was even if perhaps you sacrificed something you wanted to help another, or to get what it was you were asking for. Minho clutches Newt’s hand, and at fifteen there is nothing very sacred that you can give up, it’s the most minuscule, seemingly insignificant things that you relent in the cause of your friendships._

Dear God, I will give up my position as the head runner, if you just let Newt live. _Thomas came the next August, and Minho was not the head Runner anymore._

It had been a month and Minho was sitting next to Newt in the library. Nobody, absolutely nobody, outside of the suit knew of Newt’s inner turmoil. They didn’t detect a thing. The new medicine helped though. It was just a matter of his own self doubts now. Of fixing what he himself could without the medication. Newt was playing with the pen in his hand. Staring at the notebook. Writing. That was what they told him.

“What do I write about?” He finally asks Minho looking over at him.

“I don’t know,” Minho says and he looks at Newt for a long, long moment, just trying to erase the memories of tubes and pale skin and a small, frail body. A young, young boy who was not there anymore. He forgets when they grew up, when their soft, baby fat faces became so much sharper and manly. He forgets when Newt grew into his body and took up a much more outward sense of style, when he looked more confident than he felt. He forgets when he himself gained any appeal or style, or when his thoughts changed from boyish to manish and much more realistic. They were just kids back then, they weren’t really kids now.

“What?” Newt whispers.

“You need to be okay,” Minho finally says very quietly. “I don’t know.. When we were doing that therapy thing and just hearing you _talk_ about your suicidal thoughts, and the river and I know your medicine has been working again the past month, but I don’t know… I just… I keep thinking of how I almost lost you back then, and I would have never had my best friend. I keep thinking that, you know? I don’t want to lose you dammit. I don’t.”

Newt can’t look at him but he nods, looking at his hands. “I’m sorry, Minho,” he whispers, looking to his friend finally and they both have these stupid tears in their eyes, but they’re smiling sadly. “I’m not going anywhere. I promise, things are going to be better.”

One month ago, Newt and Minho went to the Friday Afternoon Psychology and Psychiatry appointment. Minho sat in and he listened to a whole session of Newt discussing his panic attacks, how much he hated himself, listened to him sob as he talked about wanting to drown deep in the currents of the river behind the school. He talked about how much he felt like everything was challenging and how much he wanted to claw himself out of his own skin. He talked about the boa and the roses and thorns. Newt opened up like a flower and he cried most of it too, so did Minho. Minho remembers their foreheads pressing together as he tried to calm Newt down, but Newt just couldn’t. Newt talked about how afraid he is for his parents to know, how he doesn’t want to disappoint. He said over and over again _they already hate me, what happens when they find out?_ **_Find out what?_ ** _That this is worse, that I’m gay, that I don’t want to go to Oxford. What happens to me then?_ The session went on for 3 hours, and the doctor didn’t charge it, his parents never found out. It took 2 trials but they found the perfect fit. A rarity really.

The challenge now was lifestyle.

So Newt was writing his thoughts down so he didn’t have to pent them up.

“I just… sometimes I really get scared, Newt.”

“I promise, I’m really okay… I am… I will be.”

**Ten Things Newt Hates with a Passion**

 

  * ****Alby for not being there****


  * **His father for not understanding**


  * **The Nurse because her voice is too shrill and she is too nice**


  * **The way Minho looks when he says he doesn’t want to lose him**


  * **How Thomas always leaves early in the morning and the bed is always cold when he wakes up. Stupid running.**


  * **The book** ** _Frankenstein_**


  * **When Thomas is a real tease**


  * **Remembering Nate**


  * **Thinking of how his mother sounded on the phone when he told her he didn’t want to go to Oxford**


  * **His parents in general, for making him feel like the whole world was on his shoulders, and that he had nothing, and that he was trapped, and that he couldn’t rely on anybody but himself. Newt hates them. He hates them**



 

Newt wants to cross out the thing about hating his parents but he doesn’t and he thinks for a long moment when the last time his father had even answered his morning texts. His mother always answers, even if it’s just ‘okay’ ‘no worries dear’ ‘good!’ she always answered. Sometimes she cared, but Newt didn’t know. What kind of mother looks at her 14 year old son and thinks that he’s ready to take on the world alone, in a school an ocean away? What kind of mother leaves her son to fend for himself? Doesn’t realize what hurts? Forgets to care after caring once? What kind of mother? Newt’s.

He sighs and shuts the notebook. “What?” Minho asks alarmed.

“I was just… thinking about my mother,” Newt says. “I mean… I never really think that she hates me, and I can’t be sure of my father ever, but… I don’t know… Sunny asked me last month if I ever hate them for resenting us and I told her I didn’t. I lied because I do. I hate them with a passion sometimes. But… I don’t know. It’s complicated.”

“You were just trying to make her understand they’re not bad people.”

“They aren’t… they just… they forget how to be people.”

“What do you mean?”

“Sure your parents push lovers at you all the time but your father also sends you a care package every month. Your parents love you, they ask about you, call you and come to all your events. Mine… see numbers and costs and expenses and materialistic items and think that each material makes a whole human. That’s not humanity, that’s not emotion. Emotion to them is selfish.”

“Isn’t all emotion selfish?”

“No,” Newt says instantly. “It’s different.”

Minho nods but he doesn’t understand. Unlike Alby, Minho has never really met Newt’s parents. Newt falls quiet before he begins writing again.

_In four days, it is my six month anniversary with Thomas. The last time I felt so much for somebody, I started to push him away and it ended up with him chasing me and me hurting him and us never speaking again, until I said goodbye to him after graduation. I never loved him, I never loved Nate but god I wanted to. Nate was the first person on this whole earth that I ever thought I could love. He was my biggest maybe, my greatest if, the only person who held me and made everything melt away._

_But at the same time, he would kiss me and I would sometimes think of Tommy kissing me insteady… isn’t that crazy? How sometimes you like somebody a lot more than you care to admit, so that when they’re yours you remember all the stupid things you did without realizing. All the longing and the glances and the thoughts of their mouth on your body, their arms around you every night in bed, it makes sense. The stars align._

Newt glances around as if Thomas might appear, and he’s a bit disappointed when he doesn’t. Newt shrugs it off before he goes back to writing, one hand lacing Minho’s reassuringly. Minho allows it, and see, this was no more romantic than if he did it with his sister. He and Minho were as close as brothers, the best of friends. Love comes in a multitude of shades that ranged from friendship to family to lovers. Love was the divide and conquer and work. Love is hard, no matter the circumstance. He and Minho loved each other, because they were always the ones who fought for each other. Minho was as good a brother to him, perhaps beyond that. Once it was said their souls intertwined in whatever vortex took care of soulmates, Newt firmly believes that. Certain people are just destiny, you can never see a life without them. Even in hard times. Minho was the destination after the grave, and so was Sonya, and so was Thomas.

Life without Alby was becoming easier.

\---

They were alone at the kitchen counter, Newt typing up a summary for a book report he had to do.

“I… I uhm started this great internship a couple weeks ago,” Alby says and Newt nods as he continues to type.

“That’s nice… what is it?”

“It’s a student teaching job… I really like it.”

“You used to say you wanted to be a teacher,” Newt notes.

“Yeah… still do.”

Newt nods. “Good.”

“Don’t shut me out,” Alby says suddenly and Newt glances up at him, brow raised.

“What?”

“Don’t shut me out.”

“What did you want me to say exactly?”

“I don’t know I tell you things and you shut me down. Instantly.”

“I’m not shutting you down, Alby. I really don’t know what you want me to say.”

“Maybe that you’re happy for me or ask about it or try to talk to me like you used to. We used to tell each other everything-”

“And you stopped telling me things. You stopped talking to me in classes so you could talk to your other friends. You shut _me_ out and how am I to tell you things when you’re not even listening usually? Alby I have always been there for you… what exactly have I done to deserve you abandoning me?”

“I… I didn’t mean it if you felt that way. Why don’t you ever say anything?”

“I did and you said nothing's changed.”

“Well things changed I guess..”

“You think?” Newt says and they both sigh. “Listen… I’m not saying you have to be that close to me anymore, frankly I’ve learned to move on, but if you really wanted to be my friend, to stand beside me, you wouldn’t abandon us anymore.”

The door opens and in comes Frypan and Gally with big bags of stuff and Newt lights up instantly, standing to go see what they’d gotten. “Did you get the streamers?” He asks and Gally nods.

“And the holographic stuff that hangs from the doorways or ceilings?” Gally says, putting the bags down to fish for it. “Oh! We also got this!” He holds up a giant poster with a UFO on it that says _I wish I believed_. “It lights up.”

“Cool,” Newt says glancing to what Frypan got.

“All the stuff for the cake. Are we cooking dinner?”

“No he loves pizza so we’re buying him a whole ton of pizza.”

“Winston said he’d take care of it from his job at the parlor didn’t he?” Gally asks and Newt nods.

“That’s right,” he says recalling it grinning. “In the morning we all pretend we don’t know a single thing. Okay? Make him think we forgot about it.”

“Forgot about what?” Alby asks and they all glance at him like he’s an outsider, Frypan included.

“Thomas’ birthday, we’re throwing him a surprise party,” Newt says.

Gally and Frypan nod, Gally holding up a bag of noisemakers. “Pretty,” Newt says appreciating the colors and gasping when Frypan reveals the sparkler cake topper.

“To put between the 1 and the 7 on the cake.”

“Wait he’s only going to be 17?” Gally asks and Newt nods.

“Poor thing’s a _baby_ ,” Newt says laughing. Alby abandoned by the conversation. “Oh my god what time is it? He’s going to be home soon.” They rush to hide the stuff in the places Thomas would likely never look.

“Brenda is going to be out with him until 6 o’clock, Teresa is going to come and help set up. Everybody else has an open invitation.”

“Minho made 4 different CD mixes to play and Aris said he’d get the lights from the tech room.”

“Perfect, I knew Aris was good for something,” Newt teases and Frypan nudges him.

“Oh stop.”

“What? He’s weird.”

“A little but leave him alone.”

“Fine I’ve said nothing as far as you’re concerned.”

They nod in agreement the three of them before Newt grins. “He’s going to be so happy,” Newt says elated and Gally pretends like he doesn’t care as he always did, and Frypan grins too.

“Oh! I finally finished my painting for my first AP art assignment.”

“Aren’t you in AP 2?”

“Yeah. But anyways it’s done.”

“I want to see it.”

“We can go down to the art room later.”

“Alright,” Newt says nodding. His hands rub his arms, slowly. It’s not minutes later that Thomas and Minho come in, freshly showered and in warm clothes. Newt wants nothing more than to walk over and kiss him hello, tell him how much he missed him. He doesn’t he just nods in their direction.

“Long practice?” he offers as Minho plops on one of the island chairs.

“Eternal, we had to suicides,” Minho explains. Thomas nods, equally tired.

“My legs… they hate me,” Thomas says sadly and Newt laughs, shaking his head, hugging himself to prevent from pulling Thomas closer.

“They’ll forgive you,” he assures, and Thomas nods, taking his bag to head to his room and Newt follows. Minho rolls his eyes. He texts Newt.

_Minho: use a condom_

_Newt: asshole_

_Minho: just looking out for you_

Newt sends an eye roll emoji, shutting the door. “Minho thinks we’re having sex.”

“Are we?” Thomas teases, rubbing at his sore calves. “I hate coach.”

“No you don’t, you just hate how out of shape you are.”

“I am not!” He pauses. “You never answered. Are we having sex?”

Newt scoffs. “Then your legs would hurt even more and they'd hate you even more.”

Thomas flops on the bed and Newt climbs up to straddle him, kissing him softly. “Missed you,” Newt says softly, and Thomas smiles.

“My legs burn,” he mumbles before kissing Newt. “I missed you too,” he says after a moment. “I saw this picture on Instagram of Barcelona and it was like… this really nice street with all these old buildings and I thought of you when I saw it. But then I was in a rush to get to class so I didn’t send it.”

“Well let me see!” Newt chirps, adjusting so he’s laying along Thomas’ side, head on his shoulder. Thomas searches for his phone before groaning. “It’s in my bag outside.”

“Go get it.”

“I think i’m okay just laying here. How was your day?”

“Good I think.”

“You think?”

“Well I had that stupid lecture class I took but I did find an internship I liked and I’m thinking if perhaps it wouldn’t be too much for me what with being class president and having the job at the bookstore…?”

“You’ve been off a while.”

“Two days,” Newt says. “And tomorrow I requested off because I have this counsel thing.” He sees Thomas nod sort of disappointed. “You have practice anyways, and a meet this friday!”

“Our anniversary is saturday,” he reminds.

“Yes and I took a 5 to 2 shift.”

“5 am?”

“Yes. Opening crowd loves coffee and pastries and we always lounging in the couches in the back, near the breakroom. And there’s the tables by the windows before the hallway that leads into the offices. Rob said I can get a nap break after 6 Am.”

Thomas scoffs. “He sort of cares about you.”

“Yeah in this really weird way.” Newt shrugs. “We talked the other night.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, I mean just like ‘you applyin to college kid?’ kinda conversation and I was like ‘yeah I am!’ and he was all ‘college is tough, I went to college once’ like it was something new and different.” Newt uses his American accent to imitate Rob and Thomas is smiling, head lolling over to look over at Newt and smiling.

“You submitted to Yale… somebody said you were considering MIT… you never mentioned that.”

“Oh jeez… My guidance counselor wants me to but…” he shrugs. “I don’t know. I probably wouldn’t even get in.”

“You’re MIT levels of amazing Newt… You like are in an independent study math class because you’re that amazing. The only reason you’re not an entirely independent study student is because they value socializing here.”

“And because I’m not that amazing,” Newt insists. “I’m just… I don’t know I get math that’s all there is to it.”

“Not true you’re so smart.”

“So are you! You could get into any school you wanted to I’m not different.”

“You’re unique and that’s okay,” Thomas whispers. “I don’t really know what I’m doing… you know? I’m just… doing what feels right.”

Newt sort of sinks into the bed thinking. “I don’t know either, I think. I just like to think I know…?”

Thomas kisses his head. “Stop worrying so much, you should apply.”

Newt nods again before pressing his head into Thomas’ shoulder and smiling as he just breathes him in. “You make me unbelievably happy,” he whispers and Thomas just barely hears it, Newt is awfully quiet sometimes. Newt rolls over and if he strains his ears he can hear Minho talking on and on about something.

“I think I’m going to join them,” Newt says after a moment. “Before Minho has his absolute way and stares at me as if he knows something I don’t the rest of the night.”

Thomas laughs. “It’s… not a big deal that we haven’t done it yet, right?”

Newt nods. “Not at all.”

“You said you had a boyfriend before me… when did _you_ guys do it?”

Newt shrugged. “Our relationship was built on him dry humping me until I came in someone bedroom at a party… I wouldn’t say it was necessarily a good… relationship. I would prefer that you weren’t with me because I was fun in bed. I mean that’s a plus I guess, but I can kind of live if we hold off.”

Thomas nods and he thinks. “Was it… never mind.”

“What?”

“No nothing,” Thomas says again and Newt squints at him for a second before dismissing him.

“Okay, if you’re sure.”

“Yeah… I am.”

“Tommy?”

He glances up and Newt leans over and kisses him very softly, very briefly. “I love you,” he whispers smiling, his heart racing because they’ve never said it before and Thomas melts, grinning.

“I love you too… You’re sure it’s okay?”

“Do I ever seem dissatisfied with you?”

“Not that I know of…?”

Newt rolls his eyes before kissing him again softly. “Technically _we have_ done sexual things.”

“But not sex.”

“Tommy? It’s okay…”

Thomas nods, and Newt has a hand caressing his face, and they’re leaning kind of close. Newt just barely closes the gap, their noses touching, their breath mingling and Newt gives a puff of laughter. Thomas is awestruck by him, a small smile starting to form before Newt is kissing him again soft and gentle.

“M’going now. Don’t tear your legs off or anything.”

Thomas nods, watching as Newt climbs off the bed and leaves into the bright, gleaming suite. He sits beside Minho and Minho nudges him and Newt smiles, nudging back.

“Quickie,” he whispers.

“An innocent child, I could never,” Newt whispers back teasingly and Minho rolls his eyes. Newt glances to Alby, on the couch with Gally, they were just watching something and he can feel Alby staring at his back.

“Did something happen?” Minho whispers.

“Sort of?”

“Why are we whispering?” Winston asks as he leans over the counter and Newt waves a hand at him.

“Is there coffee?”

“Yeah, want some?” Winston asks.

“I can get it-”

“I’ve got it.”

“Okay fine,” Newt agrees and sighs but he smiles softly.

Minho smiles back and they wait until Alby leaves, hesitating and lingering at the counter for a moment before going. Newt looks conflicted and when the door shuts he sort of winces.

“Stop treating him like a stranger,” Newt finally announces.

“He sort of is…” Frypan says. “I mean sometimes he’ll say things about what him and his friends do on weekends or whatever and it doesn’t sound like him.”

“Maybe he needs help,” newt says. “I don’t know, he just… he starts telling me how it’s different and all this bull about making it work, how i don’t talk to him like I used to and I just… I feel so bad but I don’t know what to say to him anymore.”

Minho nods. “Maybe he just got wrapped up in his new friends. We’ve never really encountered a situation where one of us just… found a new group.”

“Yeah but what if it’s the wrong group?”

“What if it’s not?” Winston asks.

“Then I suppose we move on.”

The thing about love was you accomodate and search for the path that lead to success in a relationship. Sometimes the best path for somebody you loved was to simply move on, because it’s too much to continue on the way you are. Newt feels it’s become too much, to constantly be put off and have to doubt himself. He hates that he can’t view himself as enough to his best friend and he hates that he feels less. He hates it. It takes a toll on his head, and so he’s decided it’s time to move on with life.

They all seem to agree.

\---

Thomas is too sore to get up but he adjusts to turn his alarm off and glances at Newt who’s trying very hard to stay asleep. “Sorry,” he whispers and Newt groans, throwing his arms around Thomas and nuzzling his neck.

“Don’t go.”

“I’m right here.”

“I know but your alarm went off which means you’re going to leave.”

“I’m too sore.”

“Stay a while then.”

Thomas nods, hugging Newt to his chest.

“Did you sleep well?” he whispers and Newt shrugs, nuzzling into him. “Last I remember being awake it was 2.30.”

“Sorry for waking you…”

Newt shrugs again, arms hugging Thomas’ middle and kissing his side, near the crook of his arm. “Just wanna stay here in your arms.”

“Even if you can’t sleep?”

“Too early to be awake, pretending to sleep is only respectful.”

Thomas huffs out a puff of laughter and he feels Newt’s smile press into his shirt, imprinting his skin. His veins are a glow with the profound love he feels for his best friend, his greatest companion. He would have never forged such happiness in the past, his mind could never wrap around Newt in his entirety, he couldn’t do any justice to the curve of his smile, or the feeling of his arms across his middle, or even the way his legs tangle with his. He would never imagine how soothing Newt’s voice in the morning was, how it was sweet like ripe mangos, and soft like clouds, his skin was flush and warm with sleep or pale and cold with tired envy of Thomas who could sleep all night and then some.

“Do we have to be quiet?” thomas asks after a moment and Newt shrugs.

“What do you have to say at 5 am?”

“I had a dream, that we were in a church,” Thomas says. “And you were in this really nice outfit that I can’t remember but thinking that you look good.”

“What were you doing?”

“Well… I don’t know, we were just there and there was just all this light around you and you looked so nice, all I remember is that you looked nice. Content, and happy and glowing. Like you were encased with light. And I had no desire to reach you, I was perfectly content, watching you be content under the light at the front of the pews. It was like… I dunno, like you _were_ the religious experience. But then I did move to reach you and you reached out to me and everything was just bright, bright light.”

Newt smiles as he watches him, moving a hand to caress his cheek before pressing a soft kiss to his mouth. They both sigh as they part before they’re kissing again, Newt’s thumb rubbing small circles on the junction at the end of his jaw. Thomas pulls him closer and Newt kisses him deeper, with profound passion (or as much passion as one can have at 5 am really). They’re breathing hard, breaths warm against each other. Newt presses Thomas to lay on his back before Thomas flails and almost falls, the two parting, eyes wide and they’re laughing, abruptly and loudly.

“Jesus! Come back to bed,” Newt teases, pulling him back and scooching so his back is against the wall and Tommy lays on his back, hand over his eyes as he laughs, trying to catch his breath and Newt is grinning, kissing the hand. “You alright?”

“Fine,” he whispers before giggling. “I almost just died but it’s fine.”

Newt rolls his eyes. “You did not!”

They both are grinning and Newt leans down, hand trailing his stomach, pressing their lips together and suddenly it’s hard to breathe, Newt doesn’t want to breathe. Tommy always leaves him the right kind of breathless. His lungs burn the right way and he holds onto that, onto the meaning that Thomas brings him.

Thomas presses into the hand that against his chest and Newt straddles his hips, continuing to give broken, wet kisses to Thomas’ lips and Thomas is languid and tired and happy. Newt smiles against his lips before moving to kiss the nape of his neck. He nips there before moving up, pressing slow kisses to the pale skin and sighing softly when Thomas grabs at his shirt. It only feels like a few minutes, just kissing and light touches but he next looks up at the clock and it’s 6.15 AM.

“We have to get ready,” Thomas mumbles.

“We do but I just want to be with you all morning.”

Thomas grins and Newt smiles too, they’re flush and breathless and Thomas feels his chest open with freedom as Newt is adorned by soft gold sunlight. He looks so perfectly young, and so perfectly beautiful. Beauty, only being a concept, was hard to place, but sometimes you look and just know beauty. Newt was beauty, and everything that could behold beauty. Adorned with light, soft golden light and Thomas kisses him, in awe of the feelings that can grip him by the throat by something as simple as a kiss. Newt doesn’t deny him before he’s pulling away.

“Okay… okay… Let’s get ready.”

Nobody mentions it’s his birthday, and Thomas is sort of disappointed when they’re ready and his grandparents and great uncle have texted him happy birthday, when even his twin had, and his dad and older sister. But they step out, talking and nobody says anything. Not even Newt. It was just another day to them. Frypan didn’t even really make anything special for breakfast but Thomas shrugs it off. Everybody but Newt is busy for lunch, but even then, Newt spends the day whispering to their other friends and he it makes him sort of sad.

Newt runs upstairs after school and locks the suite door. They had a special knock for if anybody wanted to come in. “okay, we have to start the decorations,” he says, nodding approvingly at the cake Frypan was putting together. He grabs one of the bags and Gally follows behind him. Winston and Aris follow, starting to put things together how Newt details them. (And yes it is frustrating because Newt has an image and it must be met.) Newt hung everything according, the holo flared streamers hanging by the door, creating a glistening entrance, and they hung at the entrance to the balcony too. Newt hung them on every other door. The island countertop was decorated by a metallic pink island counter skirt, and the countertop had star and moon glitter flecs dancing across it. The theme was space, of course, because he thought Thomas was out of this world.

He places the glitter on the coffee table too, and at the arc of the door to the balcony they had a happy birthday banner hanging, beautifully crafted by Frypan himself. It was gorgeous and out of this world. They hung the poster thing that lit up that Gally bought on the empty space between his and Thomas’ room and the room next door which belonged to Minho and Gally. He turns the little lights on with the button on the poster and is satisfied by how it just glows (and in it glows in the dark _too_ , he’s really excited about this).

Aris and Winston set the lights up, creating a room lit blue and purple and red, with the yellowish lamp light filling in the spaces. The ceiling is speckled with star projections and nebula projections. They decided to play all the alien movies on the TV in the background, Brenda’s friend brings some alcohol and Frypan hides it. Alby comes in and Frypan lets him help, Newt is busy adjusting the pillows, playing with streamers with Gally as they create an ocean of shiny ribbon between the star projections. In the kitchen they hang dazzling “1” and “7” decorations and they create a world of astronauts and young men with big dreams unaccomplished. Newt is bursting with excitement at how surprised Thomas will be, to see all the sadness melt at his chest when he realizes they _did_ remember.

The gifts sit in their bedroom, all of them having outdone themselves with what they got Thomas. Each of his closest friends got him something endearingly special, something they knew he’d love and the cake? Oh my god the cake, it was a glimmering silver mass that Frypan carved to seem like a spiral staircase and at the top was an astronaut that held up a “17” instead of a flag, and he stood on a universe. It was the boyish charm and wonder that Thomas often displayed, the wonder in his eyes, the curiosity for the vast unknown. He was full of questions and always seeking for answers. He was absolutely brilliant. He was what the stars and universe were made of.

Minho comes home and he changes into something nice, and sticks the first mixtape in, and people start arriving at 5.30. The pizza’s get there 5.45 and they keep them in the oven. The door opens with Brenda and they all jump out at Thomas with a “surprise!” and Thomas swears his heart drops in his stomach, Minho and Newt laughing as they pull him in by the hands. “Did you really think we forgot fuckhead?” Minho says and Thomas laughs.

“I don’t know! Yes?”

“Never,” Newt says, grinning brightly.

“It’s so beautiful,” Thomas whispers glancing around and Newt nods, tilting his head sort of pridefully and Minho laughs gleefully, poking Newt’s ribs.

“It was _mostly_ Newt’s doing with my own flare added to it.”

“The others helped of course.”

Thomas nods gleaming and Brenda pulls his arm and gives him a kiss on the cheek. “Happy birthday,” she says and Thomas laughs.

“Thank you for suddenly regaining your memory.”

Newt sort of squints at the two and Brenda meet his eye before winking. “Did you get the right pizza?” she jokes, meaning did he get the one she liked.

He scoffs. “I got a pie of every kind so you’ll have to dig,” he says sort of shaking his head and her head falls back before she offers her hand.

“Well then I owe you a dance don’t I? For being such a gentleman?”

Newt laughs. “Certainly miss.”

Thomas laughs, beaming when Chuck comes over and tugs him down to his level, Thomas practically falling and putting a sort of pathetic flower crown on his head, adorned with a “17” on it and grinning. “It’s my first party with alcohol.”

“And if you drink, Newt is going to _kill_ you.”

“I won’t drink,” Chuck says solemnly and Thomas laughs.

“Besides it taste bad usually and hangovers suck.”

Chuck considers it. “But it’s fun.”

“Only with the right people, besides it’s better to have fun sober so you remember it.” He adjusts the crown. “Do I look pretty?”

“You’re the ugliest duckling I’ve ever seen.”

They both crack up and Thomas stands, showing Minho who pauses in his conversation but melting into a smile.

“That’s so cute,” he says, playing with Thomas’ quiff and Thomas grins.

“Am I pretty?” he teases and Newt nods slowly.

“Gorgeous. Most gorgeous boy I’ve ever seen.”

Thomas’ laughter melts the whole evening and his veins are pulsing with happiness, soon enough he’s just the right kind of tipsy where the whole world is sort of melting with happiness but it’s not sinking away or hard to remember. He and Newt and Minho and Gally and Frypan and Teresa and Brenda had formed a circle near the island, laughing and messing around. Winston was taking pictures, and Newt offers him a drink that Thomas just drinks from his hand and Newt’s eyes light up with something warm and perhaps a little playful as Hymn for The Weekend Plays, _drink from me drink from me when you are so thirsty._ He wants to kiss Newt there and then, thank him with all his heart, but drinking from his cup is the closest he gets. His chest is exploding with happiness as they all cheer for him, pop party poppers, and glitter flies about the room as people dance and sing.

The room is sort of smokey and everybody is sort of tispy. The whole world is so happy and Thomas can’t stop staring at Newt, _Put your wings on me wings on me when I am so heavy pour on a symphony_ and he feels it all inside of him, as he watches Newt because Newt was so similar to an angel who picked him up when there was nothing or nobody. He was in a rose colored haze, everything seemed perfect. How Teresa smiled, how Minho posed for pictures, how Frypans hands motioned wildly as he told a story. How Newt gripped the counter as he laughed, even how Gally smiled so bright.

Everything is perfect, he really is floating through space right now, and about 65 students would be hung over and sleep deprived tomorrow but tonight they were all floating on a cloud, bursting with the love they had for each other, the music pulsing through them. _Feeling drunk and high drunk and high drunk and high_ everything was beyond them. He watched as Teresa and Brenda were spinning each other in circles near the door now, Brenda’s head tilted back, laughing in her white dress. Childlike wonder on her features, and he glances to Newt who was highlighted by the lights they gleamed on him and he was so beautiful when the light revealed him. Minho who was laughing, his lungs filled with that laughter and he himself was laughing but he wasn’t sure why. Perhaps because he loved his friends so much.

He loved them all with a passion. Everything was amazing, everything was perfect.

He wants to cry with how absolutely stunning everything is, with the happiness that traps itself inside him and crawls to escape. Escape his throat his lungs his chest with bubbling laughter and soon it’s just him and Frypan and Gally laughing at god knows what, and they’re all so so happy in the blue and purple lights that shine on them, creating them into universal beings, more than human, less than god’s, not good enough to be angels, but good enough to exist. Exist good and exist long, trapped in the neverending waves of youth, the eternal being of young and beautiful and _happy._

\---

He wakes up the next morning and him and he remembers every detail and to his delight, the polaroids and digital camera were on the floor and Newt was gracefully strewn about the bed, naked because he was too lazy to pull pajamas on, his boxers clinging just right, his body warm to the touch, curled into Thomas. Thomas is so content with bliss, watching Newt peaceful. He traces the lines of his head, thinking for a moment how absolutely amazing his love was before kissing his forehead.

“Such a good brain,” he whispers sleepily, Newt smiling.

“I know you didn’t wake me up to tell me my brain was good,” Newt whispers hoarsely, head tilting to look up at Thomas who shrugged.

“Not my fault you sleep lightly.”

Newt shakes his head and before he can respond to Thomas, he’s being kissed hard, hands cupping his face and Newt kisses back, holding Thomas, arms trying to find a warm place to hide. They part and Newt falls to the bed like he’s wilted, with love and serenity, chest rising in deep breaths as Thomas covers him with the blanket, worried.

“Stop that,” Newt whispers. “I can take care of myself.”

“Then why would you keep me around?”

It’s so sincere, so genuine, and Newt softens, moving to kiss Thomas again, aiming to be gentle but ending up being just as aggressively passionate. So full, so loving. They cling helplessly to each other in the bed, and Newt’s hands drag across his back, appreciating the muscle there. And he thinks about those things you think of when you have sex, when you’re close enough to it. How his muscles move just right, how his neck arcs when they part, the way his arms are formed, his fingers dancing across his bare thighs send a fire through his blood that he wasn’t sure he had until this moment.

“Thank you for last night,” Thomas whispers and Newt nods.

“Anytime my love…”

Thomas kisses him again and Newt holds his bicep, just feeling Thomas’ movements transfer and he sighs happily into their kiss, the two swaying in their embrace as they grasp at each other, holding onto each other almost desperately, and it was slow, because it was too early to be anything else. It was maybe 4 am and they were just up, up with the world and Newt was always up it seemed but he was so soft now, in Thomas’ arms. Newt parts, melting into his arms, his kiss trailing off slowly as he drifts back into a light sleep and Thomas is careful not to wake him as he makes sure Newt is comfortable against the bed and kisses his head softly.

When he finally emerges Newt is squinting at chuck over the edge of his coffee mug, sipping slowly. “Really? Is that so?”

“I’m sorry,” Chuck says looking down sadly.

“Well you’re all grown now, so you’ll have to solve this one on your own.”

“Newt please, you know everything!”

“And I _know_ that fifteen year old boys should not be drinking.”

“When did you start drinking?”

“When I turned _seventeen_ and my grandmother decided I was old enough to have a glass of wine with dinner.”

Chuck looked defeated, and Newt raised a challenging eyebrow at the boy before judgingly sipping from his mug. Thomas walks to the medicine cabinet and he takes 2 of Newt’s pills and puts them down in front of him before he gives Chuck a giant water bottle and 2 advil.

“I took my pills, I _know_ you’re not suggesting I need them because he-”

“You _know_ how you get without them. It’s like the guy in a snickers commercial before the snickers.”

“Clever,” Newt quips, eyes narrowing at Thomas now and Thomas tries to emulate the look but it just makes Frypan laugh, putting leftover cake for all them.

“We need it,” he says and they all nod in agreement. “Also you look stupid trying to pull off that glare. He’s a menace.”

“You’re telling me, you don’t have to sleep with him,” Thomas says before realizing and tensing, Newt swallows thickly and Frypan pauses.

“Normally no…? I mean once I had to sleep in the same room as him and he is so picky.”

Newt nods slowly and Thomas nods, looking slightly alarmed. “Yeah he sucks.”

“You suck,” Newt shoots back, and Chuck is just wallowing on the couch. Though Alby squints at the two of them as he sits at the end of the counter. He wants to ask what _exactly_ Thomas meant, why he looked so scared, but he thinks that Newt will never talk to him again. Though when Newt grabs his stuff to get an early start, and Thomas returns to the room and shuts the door closed, Frypan just looks at Alby then at Gally who’s sat down.

“Think they’re fucking?”

“Oh definitely,” Gally agrees, taking a bite of cake.

“Cool, it’s not just me.”

“No, not just you.”

“Definitely fucking.”

“Definitely more,” Alby says, almost bitter.

“Maybe.” Frypan pauses. “ _Lovesick idiots_ , they’re not subtle.”


	13. The Man Was a Visionary

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Minho is crushing on a girl and Thomas figures it out in a hot minute. Rob has a Vision and it becomes into a 48 hour work venture between Rob and Newt.

Minho couldn’t stop thinking about this conversation he had with Brenda at the party the night before, about how she said she would  _ totally  _ fuck him and Frypan started this whole discourse on which of the two athletes would top and sure they were laughing and it was all fun and games but she sort of clung by them the whole night. He knows it was mostly because she preferred Newt’s company to his, he knows the two had grown a great deal closer in the past month, it showed when he instinctively took a cigarette for her and she lit them both up. No care, no thought, just instinct. 

But Brenda was witty, charming, funny. She was awfully energetic, she exubed a tough kind of energy with a kind, almost romantic passion. She was the starshine to the skies last night. They talked, a lot, before this whole debacle about sex together, and he felt like he’s known her his whole life. He had been leaning on her chair and she offered a bite of her pizza to him, and he took it. Thomas was sort of drunk, and he was staring at something on his phone. Brenda told Minho “Don’t you love me?” And Thomas, without even looking up, went  _ “Yeah you’re the love of my life!”  _ Minho would be jealous if he didn’t know that Thomas was absolutely whipped for Newt, who he kept looking at as if he’d seen God standing there himself across the room. 

She laughs, loud and caring and beautiful, her white acrylic nails raising his head to see Minho and he looks so surprised. “Minho!” And Minho laughed, messing his hair. 

“You’re drunk.”

“A little bit.” 

Newt comes over, across the island and she points at the bucket of drinks. “Grab me a beer,” She says before looking at Minho. “You never answered.”

“Love you lots,” he teases. She was the kind of person who held parties and he attended them, but he never ever really talked to. He saw her around, he knew she talked to Newt, sometimes she went out with them and Teresa, but they were never best friends or anything, not even good friends or anything. He can’t stop thinking about her though, how she lit up and Newt grabs a beer bottle before teasing her about having enough to drink and she tells him he couldn’t stop her. She uses her bracelet to take the top off, popping it open like nothing before using it to wash down the pizza. 

Newt takes his own slice, Settling beside Thomas and okay, Newt had a range of outfits that always felt  _ suggestive  _ and nobody is really sure when he bought it, (Minho vaguely remembers them agreeing on buying it as a joke) but Newt has this cute pink crop top on with the  _ Pink Floyd  _ triangle and rainbow dancing across it. It had glitter and was sort of metallic, so the shirt had a fluid movement to it. 

“We’re talking about how much Minho  _ loves _ me,” She says exaggerated and Minho laughs. 

“Love her more than life,” he jokes. 

“Yeah right.”

“Would you fuck him?” Thomas asks. “Because that’s true love.”

“What’s  _ that _ supposed to mean?” Minho asks offended. 

“You’re always sweaty,” Thomas teases and Newt laughs, Minho scoffs and Brenda proudly declares that she would  _ so fuck him  _ her shoulders shimmying to  _ This is How We Do It.  _ She looked so beautiful, so flawless and careless. Minho thinks maybe he did just fall in love with her. 

“What’s up with you?” Thomas asks him and he blinks, blushing. 

“Nothing,” he says, face falling.

“Smiling like a fucking idiot and  _ nothing  _ is your response? Try again pal.”

Minho scoffs. “Nothing, you dick.”

“Thinking about  _ Brenda _ ,” he teases and okay, Minho could tell you a thousand times over that Thomas was a dick, simply because he could read Minho’s mind. He just always sort of knew what was going on with Minho and Minho blushes wildly. “You are!” 

“It’s nothing. Besides my parents would never approve.”

“Only because you’ve never told them about a girl you liked, let alone dated one!”

“Yeah and who have you dated?”

“It  _ doesn’t _ matter.”

“Yeah because you know who is the only person.”

“So what?”

“So you can’t use that against me.”

“I’m just saying your parents would probably like her.”

“Yeah but it doesn’t matter, she probably doesn’t like me.”

“How do you know?”

“I don’t.”

“Exactly, see just talk to her next time we hang out.”

“Which is?”

“Probably Sunday since Teresa is coming for Downton day.”

“Lame, why do we let Newt infiltrate our totally American lifestyle with things like  _ Downton Abbey _ . I mean his parents are so damn rich he probably lives that exact lifestyle in a big ass house like that.”

“Well, it’s a four story building in London. It’s a  _ London House  _ as termed in Downton, where they go on vacation and stuff? But like, Newt lives there.”

“If you can count it as living. Says he spends most of the summer away from them anyways, and when he’s home it’s all fake stuff.”

“Yeah, fake stuff,” Thomas agrees.

“Still bull that we watch it.”

“It’s what his life could have been. You know?”

“I guess. Except, probably more messed up.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah I don’t know he tells me things about his family and like they’re whack jobs.”

“My dad’s a whack job I’m pretty sure.”

“Why do you say that?”

“It’s nothing,” Thomas says before pausing. “We have a bad history, I left home, my sister moved in because they thought I was unstable. I don’t talk to him anymore. Nana sent me here because I needed a change of pace from the _ El Paso _ lifestyle in California, meaning working the stands at our open picking farm, and creating the kind of City life she and Papa wished they had. She calls it that anyways, Nana I mean. She says it’s an  _ El Paso lifestyle  _ and I mean they’re well off, the farm generates  _ so much money _ but I don’t know… they’re inventive people. Back then they hated all sorts of immigrants though, not just the mexican or arab ones.”

“Or East Asians, don’t forget us,” Minho says pointed and Thomas nods. “My parents had it hard here too, mom never spoke the best English at home, let alone here. We make due.”

“Yeah.”

“So you don’t talk to your dad?”

“Can’t even remember the last time we could stand sitting in a room alone together.”

“What about your mom? You never talk about her.”

“She died when me and my twin were eight.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah… messed him up real bad. He was sort of an angry kid, I just turned quiet.”

“ _ Shit _ man.” 

“It’s whatever, she’s gone now and I dunno, I wish I remembered her more. She was good before she was sick, had some type of crazy dementia? It was… not the best of circumstances but we move on and the family I do live with loves me and that’s all that matters. And you guys, you guys make life worth it you know? I’ll always be thankful I had people who took me in when I was so sure I wouldn’t get along with anybody here really.”

“Cause of your El Paso lifestyle? Country boy slinging.”

“Damn straight,” Thomas teases and they laugh, bumping shoulders. “But seriously, Brenda? So your type.”

\---

Newt was rushing to get something more “cozy” and “welcoming” on (dubbed to be his work uniform) as he also tries to tidy up the room. He pulls on his leather ankle boots and laces them up, fixes his long hair in the mirror before leaving, grabbing a pastry as he goes. His bag his slung over his shoulder and he speed walks like his life depends on it all the way to the store. Rob gave him a shift that was hardly 10 minutes after school, he had practically  _ sprinted  _ across campus, and his leg was throbbing. 

He gets there and the store isn’t very busy, the old woman he works there is in the front and he smiles, clocking in. “You go on Daisy, I’ll talk to Rob,” he says, and smiles soft, kind. “Rob?” he calls, looking for him. “Sorry if I’m a little late,” he calls, rushing about to set up new coffee pots, grabbing pastries and the chocolate bag to refill. Rob is just staring at paint chips, stops Newt.

“Stop buzzing for a second.” Newt stops, Right behind Rob, head turned to look at the paint chip he holds up. “Man don't you just…  _ feel it _ ?” 

“Feel what?” Newt asks.

“The color man.”

“The color?”

Rob nods, moving the color card in the light, head tilting a bit. “Man… it’s a vision,” he says with an edge of passion. “Doesn’t this look like a vision to you? Turquoise,” he says it with a french ish touch to it before lifting a marigold yellow. “Flowers in the ocean. Isn’t that a vision?”

“Is it a vision?”

“It is. Don’t you see it, man?”

Newt glances around the walls. “I like the brown.”

“You’re a creature of habit kid, you like what’s familiar to you. Listen, go finish up the customers out there, and then we’re closing shop and headed to home depot.”

“What?”

“We’re painting.”

“We’re painting?”

“Yeah you like to paint don’t you? Took all those damn art classes didn’t you? Used to never let go of those sketch books, big or small. You used to draw all over, right? Well same thing just on a big ole wall. I’ll buy everything you need. Just… listen, you pick a color too. Or maybe pick two.” 

Newt raises a brow but nods and he looks at the vast array of paint chips and they both just stare and Newt glances at Rob, his stubbly, slim face and green eyes contemplative, as if he’s trying to have another ‘vision’ and he looks at Newt. “What’s your goal in life, kid?”

“What?”

“What do you want to do?”

“I want to be… like a doctor of some sort. Pediatric surgeon or something?”

“Yeah? And what’s your plan, what’s your vision?”

“I… I don’t know,” Newt admits softly. 

“Well get this, you get a certain amount of visions in life, and right now, this is your practice vision. You meet me in the middle and we’re gonna take down every fuckin poster, strip the walls, hell we’re going all night if we have to.  _ This  _ is my vision, this is my second vision. The store? Damn that was my first. But now? Now we’re re-envisioning.”

“Okay…” Newt says nodding. He glances over them and he feels moved by this soft, slightly off center kind of mint green, not exactly mint but not exactly not and he picks beside it a poppy, shiny cherry red. It glistened with gloss. “These, the wall of cherries,” Newt says. We can move the shelves by the window and make a center cafe type thing and near the tables create the wall of cherries. Paint the tables this color too.”

Rob laughs. “Fuckin fantastic-” the bell outside rings and he looks at Newt. “Go, get everybody the hell out of here. We have  _ work  _ to do. Real work.” 

Newt nods and leaves the chocolates and pastries and coffee that’s brewing in the pot and goes to the desk. “How are you today?” he asks the older woman, who looks irritated.

“Just fine,” she says unhappy. 

“Sorry for keeping you waiting, I was just making more coffee.”

“That’s alright.”

He looks over the book,  _ Fifty Shades of Grey  _ and says nothing about it, just rings her up and gives her a discount to make sure she’s pleased, with a free bookmark. “You have a lovely day madame.”

“Yeah, you the same,” she says still with distaste and Newt feels excited, he hasn’t been excited to work here since the week after he started and figured out Rob sucked, and smoked a lot of weed, and drank usually. Rob was never violent, he was just too calm, and he squints at you all the time, everything has to be perfect. Newt can’t say he hasn’t learned from working here though, and he believes, deep down, that Rob, like Thomas said, cares in his own bizarre ways. This was one of those moments that he knew he was special to Rob in a way because last time Rob “redecorated” he walked in to new bookshelves and tables that weren’t there before. He supposes it was part of the first vision. 

Newt vets the next few people and then locks the door and turns the sign after the last. Rob comes out with two to-go cups full of coffee. He grabs his car keys and Newt follows him. Rob’s car is exactly what he expected, a dingy metal death trap and it was clean enough from the inside but it smelled similar to the perfume of an old woman. “Into older woman?” Newt teases and Rob raises a brow.

“No my girlfriend just has old taste.”

“Is it because she’s old?” 

Newt picks a tape and pops it in. It’s the 1975 and he doesn’t mind really. Rob scoffs, backing out of the parking lot and into the street. “She’s not old.”

“Okay, didn’t even know you had a girlfriend.”

“What about you then huh?”

“Boyfriend, he’s a sweet thing really.”

Rob turns to look at him a moment before nodding. “You’re too pretty to be straight, makes sense.”

“Thanks I think?”

“ _ Older  _ boyfriend?”

“Younger. He just turned 17, so I guess not much younger but he likes to tell people he has an  _ older  _ boyfriend, so I guess I have a younger one.”

Rob scoffs. “Sounds ridiculous.”

“He is.”

“So supportive.”

“It’s how love goes I guess.”

“Love?”

“Yeah that thing you feel when you really care about someone?”

“You’re a kid you don’t know love.”

“I know that he feels different.”

“You ever even date anybody else?”

“Yeah two other guys, one was like an experiment, the other used me for sex usually.”

“That's rough.”

“This guys different though, yeah? Otherwise I’ll kick his ass.”

“Thanks for the offer but last time I punched the guy so hard in the stomach he puked. Everywhere.”

“Yikes.”

“Yeah.”

“You’re a tough kid, you know?”

“I guess.”

“You are. I know you think I don’t pay attention, but I get you. All that depression and shit, that’s rough. You’re still kicking though. That’s the funny part. Lots of kids your age? They don’t kick. But you? Damn I’ve seen you fight like hell to make it through a shift. You just do what needs to be done and smile at all those people- tough shit.”

“Why do you care?”

“Because man, you know, I went to Iraq right? And that shit was hard. I smoke to keep all that nightmare stuff away. That girl that comes by sometime, she’s one of my veteran friends. We just talk about stuff, get high together you know? She was tough shit but they never let her pass to front line, she got sick of fighting but now she’s got nothing. World is tough shit too you know? You just… gotta fight it like a war.”

“Bloody hell, Rob-” Newt tugs the steering wheel a bit. “Left, the home depot is left.”

“It’s _ not _ left.”

“It’s **left** .”

“Fine we get lost it’s on you.”

“I know where I’m going.”

“See? Tough shit.”

He offers Newt a cigarette. “What’s in that?”

“Tobacco and weed.”

“Pass. Don’t get high while driving.”

“Tough shit,” Rob just keeps repeating and Newt thinks he doesn’t really even realise it. Just keeps saying it, over and over. 

“You too, bruv,” Newt says. “War is tough shit.”

Rob shakes his head and turns left at the light, like Newt said. “Where we go from here?”

“Down that road.”

“Who’s that girl that always comes in? Could’a swore you had something with her.”

“Brenda? She’s just a friend.”

“Yeah… he ever come in?”

“No, he’s… crazy about becoming an olympic runner. Said if he’s going to spend life running he might as well get somewhere. Doesn’t really go many places besides that bloody track.”

“It’s like Forrest Gump.”

“Yeah sort of. Betch’ya he could do that too. Run all those miles and go without stop. He’s incredible sometimes.” 

Rob nods. “He smart like you?”

“Yeah I think he’s pretty smart- right, go right!”

“You said-”

“No, right!”

“Fine, fine.” Thursdays the town was usually empty, especially by the backroads where the old brick buildings loomed with the ominous industrial past of immigrants working in too tight quarters, children who couldn’t get by or go to school. The clothes lines were still hung as the few apartments in commission still used them, big breasted women with fat about their waists hanging clothes. It reminds Newt of 1984, and the proletariats unconventional beauty. Their unresolved conditions of life and work. He wishes, deep inside, that he could help the people who live in the poverty condition of clothing lines, and multiple children. Most people didn’t like the industrial buildings, because they reminded them of the poverty they could have, it was uncomfortable when so many in the area had the nice, picket fence houses and big boston jobs but Newt didn’t mind so much. The simplicity of life where family stuck together, where apartments were restored, where children ran down stairs, wasn’t so bad. He keeps glancing upward at the brick buildings, some crumbling. Perhaps it wasn’t that deep but he also can’t stop thinking about the scene where Winston thinks of the woman’s immense power. See, Newt doesn’t need an uprising, he just wants the world to be a better place to live- at least for somebody if not him.

“You’d think… so many people with money they’d fix it.”

“Fucking assholes.”

“That’s my first vision,” Newt says and Rob’s brow perks.

“Raise the money to fix their buildings.”

“How much you think we need?”

“Who cares? You know all these people live here and the oppressed get nothing. It’s no fair.”

“How’s the sunny side of England, son?” Rob teases, offering that Newt is optimistic.

“Sunny side is dandier when the clouds are gone. What’s the point of doing all this when you can’t help anyone out?”

“Turning?” he asks at a light and Newt glances around. They were re-entering the commerce of Gladersville, the nice pristine streets and glass buildings and neon signs and new restaurants were beginning to appear again. 

“Left then it’s the first plaza, big home depot there.”

“Visionary,” Rob says. “A real visionary.”

Newt laughs, shaking his head. They get to the home depot, grab the colors and go. “Vision’s gotta be solid,” Rob says on the way back. “You wanna help those people? Gotta do the most. Gotta have a plan. Figure out your shit and then you do the big stuff. Fixing this hell hole town up? That’s Vision number 4 or something.”

Newt nods and he looks over the brushes and he tries to imagine the walls. They get there and take all the books down and they put everything downstairs. They lay tarps on every inch of carpet. They move the tables, the pots, the machinery, everything that can move is moved. Then they get to priming, every wall is white by 6.30. Chinese takeout is there by 7.15, they’re sitting on the floor eating until 8. 

Turquoise is the reading frame of every wall but cherry wall by 9.15. Thomas calls at 9.30, he should’ve been home an hour ago. 

“Hey babe what’s up?”

“It’s 9.30 are you okay?”

“Rob had a vision.”

“A… a  _ what? _ ”

“A vision. We’re repainting all the walls and reorganizing.”

“Oh… you need help? We’re okay.” 

Rob picks out a song and turns up his bluetooth speaker. “THIS IS A JAM!” he yells from where he’s standing and Newt laughs. 

“What’s going on?”

“He’s figured out one of the bluetooth speakers we normally keep charged and on display. He’s playing  _ Shake it Out  _ by Florence and the Machine.” 

“Will you be home soon?” He can tell Thomas is sort of smiling. 

“I don’t know. I’ll text you okay? Don’t stay up waiting on me.”

“Okay. I love you!”

“Love you too, bye!” Newt chirps before he’s hanging up and picking up the yellow paint and pouring the mixed formula into a small paint holder, taking his detail brush and starting on the bottom, creating yellow flowers throughout. There were more colors, and on the center wall on the back, he creates one giant orange and gold flower with yellow accent flowers around it. By then it’s 11.37 PM, and they’re hardly half way done. Just jumping around and finishing as they go. 2.15 AM and they’ve finished the flowers and have started cherry wall. 

4.35 AM and Newt is gulping down coffee cup #4, and Rob is dozing on the couch in his office. 

5.45 AM and cherry wall is almost done. Rob pulls him back before he can continue painting, they just stare in awe up at the wall. “Shiny.”

“Forever gloss,” Newt agrees. They were tired as hell.

6.14 AM and Newt is dozing on the tarp, his fingertips in the yellow paint, his sweater strewn aside somewhere. 

7.25 “Shit! Shit shit shit I have school!” He’s running trying to find his sweater, and he doesn’t really know when his hair had become such a mess. His arms? Covered in paint. Neck? Painted. Hands? Yellow and cherry gloss red. 

“I’ll call you out,” Rob says. “The  _ vision _ , it must persist.”

Newt doesn’t know what time it is but the sun is mostly up, it’s be 8 AM he knows that, they’re eating fresh bagels in the bagel shop across the street and sharing a fruit bowl, they each have coffee. 

“The war, you know, was shit.”

“Kill anybody?”

“Yeah… and I couldn’t stop thinking, he was just a man like me. Left not long after.”

Newt nods. “Sometimes I think my parents won’t ever speak to me again if I tell them I’m gay.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah.”

They both held their own burdens, they’ve reached a strange understanding.

“You’re tough shit kid.”

“You’re not bad yourself bruv.”

11.45, Minho and Thomas come by and the two of them are covered in paint as they wildly try to recreate a mosaic they found online, sleep deprived, delirious and  _ maybe a little high  _ on the wall by the counter, the only space between the windows that often gives Newt sanction during his shifts. They’d moved the whole drawer and safe that was there. A garden with a peacock and a bird. Thomas and Minho are perplexed but they watch quietly before they leave and come back with lunch. 

The four sit in silence as they eat in front of Cherry wall. “The vision, man,” Rob whispers.

“Cherry wall cafe,” Newt agrees. 

2.45, that’s when Jansen comes into the store and is awed by the sight. Newt was painting fish between the flowers, eyes a little wild and hazy as he tries to keep from sleeping. His hands are covered in paint. There’s coffee mugs strewn about and Rob was trying to collect them to wash. “Hey, we’re closed.”

“I just… thought you calling him out was quite bizarre but this is-”

“Who the  _ fuck  _ are you?”

“That’s my principal,” Newt calls, still entranced by his work and Jansen and the Guidance Counselor who followed watch with speculation and awe. He looks to Jansen and shrugs. “The man is a visionary.”

“I think he needed this,” she says in this rushed, business way. Newt hates her. 

“Get out,” Rob says and they do. They leave.

4.15 and every doorway border is a sparkly gold. “Like the rich,” Rob says.

“Like it’s real,” Newt agrees.

They’re back to it being 5 o’clock and they’re both asleep on the carpet in the hallway, brushes on the tarp. 

6.15 and they’re back to finishing the hallway. Cherry gloss red with mint leaves. It’s inverted, they think that’s pretty damn cool. 

11.15 PM and they’re done. 

The two just sit in the last room at the end of the hall staring at the orange and green. It was a sort of psychedelic, rhythmic pattern and the longer they stared at the green and orange stripes, pointed like arrows or created in circles or cut in jagged lines across the surface, the more movement it showed and alive it became.“ **70** ’s,” Rob says and Newt nods.

“Part of the vision.”

“Fuck yeah.”

“You said war was tough shit. You were wrong.”

“What?”

“War is for the weak.”

“Explain.”

“You go and they strip you have emotion, create you into a drone, make you practice kill, treat you like shit, put you on the field and then you go about, being inhuman. Emotionless. All that nothing, that shit makes you weak. All that nothing, that’s sociopathy. Take the killers from the jails and put them on the fields. Let them fight for the fake cause.”

“Emotion is power,” Newt agrees softly. “It’s the most damning thing sometimes but when you feel nothing… when you’re numb?” He looks up at the lights and shakes his head. “You’ve lost your fucking mind then. You’re nothing. You’re weak. You’ve given up.”

“You gave into the man instead of rebelling.”

“Yeah. What  _ bullshit _ .”

“War is  **_weak_ ** .” 

“War  _ is _ weak.” 

Newt gets home 11.35 and his friends are sleeping mostly, except for Frypan who’s finishing an art assignment. He’s covered in paint, hair a mess. He waves to Frypan and trudges to his room, Thomas reading and biting his nail. He shuts the door and Tommy rushes over to pull him into a kiss and Newt kisses back sleepy and slow, laughing as he parts, just letting his body hang in Thomas’ arm, head tilting back, neck arching. 

“I’ve slept… 45 minutes max the past 24 hours. Isn’t that crazy?”

“How’d your vision making go?”

“It’s beautiful.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, we just have to put everything back during my 5 am tomorrow.”

“You didn’t forget?”

“That our anniversary is tomorrow? No.”

“Good.”

“Can’t forget you ever.” 

Thomas laughs, kissing Newt. “You need a shower.”

“ _ Three. _ ”

Thomas picks at the paint under his ear and kisses Newt again. “Come on, go shower so you can sleep.” 

5 Am the next day, him and rob just sleep on the couches until 9.30. They get bagels then put arrange everything in accordance to the vision. The shelves are kept more to one side and create a sort of walkway to a cafe area. They even find a garage sale somewhere in town and get a glass case for the pastries and make a deal with the bagel guy.

“Smart kid.”

“Thanks.”

It’s 12.30 when they’re done putting everything up and the new girl comes in, someone Brenda went to school with. “What’s… this?”

She didn't have a key, Newt is proud of that. 

“Newt?”

“Yeah?” he asks, looking up from his book piles that he was organizing. 

“Give it a rest kid, go home. Happy anniversary, that’s why you took off right?”

“Yeah, thanks,” Newt says smiling. “Good luck,” he tells the new girl as he grabs his things and heads home where Thomas and Minho are playing a board game on the floor. 

“You’re home!”

“Yeah Rob let me off early, since I was on the clock for literally 24 hours the other night.” 

“Go take a nap,” Thomas advises and Minho nods in agreement.”

“I didn’t actually start work until 9.30, me and Rob just took an on the clock nap.”

“Relatable,” Minho says. Newt smiles softly and takes off his work sweater, leaving the undershirt underneath. 

“Dress preppy or like sort of nice or like whatever?”

“Mmm Fancy casual- so like sort of nice?” Thomas responds and Newt nods, going to the room and melting into the bed. He thinks of how Rob said this was a practice vision, but the store became his vision too. He felt it, he knew what he wanted, he saw the way it would end, he met Rob in the middle to create an amazing new thing out of a very old store. (Much older than Rob wants to admit)

Now it was a matter of creating the visions that would be the rest of his life. He wonders if visions are immediate, he thinks he has the start of a vision but it’ll take time to see the whole picture. He hugs his pillows and closes his eyes. The vision behind his lids is Thomas. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In terms of content and conversations, what goes on between Newt and Rob is probably one of the most like meaningful chapters. It touches on a whole range of things and how two totally different forms of pain are valid. how even though Rob went through a war, he still thinks Newt is "tough shit" and they have this mutual middle meeting. It's a very like I want to say broken development, the conversations are fragmented over the car ride, between conversations, fluid and realistic because we don't always respond in linear order, especially when we are engaged in other things. The relationship between the two have been fairly non existent while also being omnipresent in Newt's life. This is his boss, we know that Rob exists and that he and Newt don't get along but you see the relationship take a new form, and I think you gain a sense of new understanding- you see that there is a change.  
> This is also something I find myself doing with parts of the first part of the chapter. Conversations flow from topic to topic without ever really meaning to and then loop back. Thomas and Minho are talking about Brenda and then end up talking about Thomas' childhood trauma and then it loops back. I don't know, to me this is pretty common in real dialogue between friends, we've all done it before I think.  
> But I honestly think this chapter is very powerful, it really opens you up to some ideas, and I really hope that as fun as this story can be, you sometimes get something out of it??? Idk but as always, if you ever need somebody, a friend, a person, my tumblr is waldenbeckboys, you can leave something down below, my fan instagram is also waldenbeckboys you can DM me there?? Love you all lots! Thank you so much for reading, you're all wonderful people and beings  
> OH LAST THOUGHT- the visions idea was inspired by Bernadette fox from Where'd you Go Bernadette and her 18 visions for life.  
> okay that's it, thanks a million I love you all! hope you enjoy the story, the coming chapter is mayyyybe the boys first time? alsO IT'S THE ANNIVERSARY CHAPTER! (yayyy)


	14. Thomas, Newt, and the Stars Between Their Hands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Newt and Thomas have their 6 month anniversary, and their first time. The chapter ends with the two going to church the next morning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Songs used in the smutty part of the chapter: I belong to you and Orion's Belt by Sabrina Claudio (2 separate songs, just by the same person)

Newt wore Tommys Varsity jacket over his favorite blue button up (it had little white sparrows over it). They were sitting in a yard that Tommys great uncle owned, deep in the woods along a mountainside. He had the keys to the cabin but Newt preferred it, there on the swing Tommy had decorated with fresh, intertwined flowers, vines hanging from the trees. He hears Thomas before he feels him, the air rushing around as he grips the ropes holding the wooden swing and laughing. Thomas pushes him a couple more times before yanking him back and kissing his neck.

“Have you successfully maneuvered that ancient grill then?”

“No… but we can cook inside. Barbecue stove top style,” Thomas says and Newt leans his head up to kiss him before Thomas abruptly lets him go, and Newt gasps in surprise, Thomas bolting and Newt jumps up and chases after him into the kitchen entrance, grabbing him by the shirt before he could get any further. 

“Dick!” He insults but they’re both laughs and Newt hugs Thomas’ back before kissing his cheeks, his head. 

“Your dick specifically.”

“No sorry, I already have one,” Newt says, a light blush coating his cheeks but they’re both trying to contain smiles (and failing!) as Thomas turns fully in his arms to look at him. 

“Stove top dinner.”

“I’ll do most of the cooking then,” Newt says because last time he watched Thomas make a stovetop dinner, Frypan almost cried because Thomas was ‘disrespecting the art’ and well, they just ordered a pizza after he burned the rice. 

Thomas scoffs. “I’ve gotten better.”

“Love do you really believe that?” Newt asks sympathetically.

“Pasta counts!”

“No baby…” Newt whispers, trying not to laugh and Tommy deflates.

“Fine, but can I at least  _ help _ .” 

“Obviously. Come on, let’s make a little something out of nothing,” he declares. He grabs the ground beef and the rice they brought for the shrimp and glances about their other ingredients. He grabs a sheet pan and hands it to Thomas. “Butter this?”

Thomas nods and he is ever obedient because Newt usually knows what he’s doing and Newt has watched Frypan and his made at home enough to know how to make a thing or two. He thinks for a moment before deciding to do beef stuffed jalapeno peppers with some rice and shrimp on the side. They put the hot dogs in the freezer and proceed to make dinner. Once everything is in the oven and the timer is set Newt sheds the jacket and goes to sit on the couch in the small sunroom off from the kitchen, settling on the couch. Tommy follows and nestles in front of Newt, letting Newt spoon him. He kisses at the nape of Thomas’ neck, following the line of his shoulders. He nuzzles between them and all the tense air that’s there falls away. They stay cuddled like that until the timer goes off and Thomas feels his blood burn with something too familiar and a little unfamiliar, he has to rub his legs to calm down a little. Newt doesn’t seem to notice, easily finding his way around the house, glancing at the thermostat. He glances to the strange fireplace in the kitchen, proving the ancient age of the house (or ancient style of Tommy’s great uncle) before pulling out the items in the oven. He stirs the rice, and he adds some spices. 

Thomas watches Newt carefully for a moment before going to grab some plates and wash the dust off. “He rarely ever comes here, I do sometimes on weekends.”

“Ahh so this is your secret hiding place, hm?” Newt teases. 

“Yeah well now it’s yours too.” 

They smile soft and tender at each other. Thomas kisses him briefly and Newt is happy seeming, watching him with kind eyes. “Good, because I do miss you when you leave.” 

Thomas begins to wash the plates, the two falling in comfortable silence, and Newt turns on the old radio, adjusting the knobs so it’s on the classic music station. “You’re so british.”

“I can’t help it,” he teases. “Besides it’s more just a me thing than a british thing I think.”

Thomas smiles. “You things are good things.”

“Are they now?”

“I’m extra sentimental because it’s our anniversary.”

Newt laughs and he starts to set the table with the dishes they’ve made. Thomas dries the plates and puts them down, washing utensils next. Newt glances over the array of drinks they bought and puts the two glass cola bottles on the table. “Properly American,” he teases. “With a touch of class.”

“Full of it, Mr. Newton.”

“Just a little bit.”

They smile and he takes 2 of the utensils to put down. By the time dinner is done and they’ve cleaned up, it’s almost dark out, the ripe hour of 5.30, so early compared to the summer when the sun never set. Newt is looking at the books on a shelf, casually pulling one out when damp hands grab his waist and kiss under his ear, nipping the skin there. Newt tilts his head, smiling. 

“Enjoying yourself?”

Tommy nods and Newt tugs his sleeve a bit. “What does this say? I can't read Polish but you can.” He feels Thomas’ head rest on his shoulder, before he's slowly translating.

“The call of the mountain tops were often heard by the sheepherders wife, who often stayed home at the bottom of the mountain. So when the mountain calls, she stood outside to sing her song back, the resonant cry of a suffering sorrow. She was a woman with very little, she had no children or joy, and so she sang to the top of the mountain..” 

Newt listens, breathing steady. He makes Thomas pause and they finish their story on the couch, Newt holding the book. “Pictures are really nice.”

“They are…”

“You'll have to teach me polish one day.”

“Are you up to the challenge?” Thomas teases and Newt smiles.

“Of course I am. Are you?” 

“Are you a challenge?”

“Well it's been 6 months, maybe you should give me a review,” Newt says, still smiling, though if he could answer he'd say  _ he was  _ a challenge. He'd put Thomas through so much… it was hard for Newt to think that maybe Thomas didn't see it that way. 

“Okay…” Thomas pauses to think. “I think you're the greatest boyfriend I could ever have- and shut your serotonin lacking brain up for like a second and listen. Okay example 1, there was that time in Maine, when I got super drunk you just nursed me back to health the next day, kept me company. Or in August? You had given me that scrapbook with our pictures…” Newt raises an eyebrow. “You always look out for me, you're easily the strongest person I know…” 

“Oh-” 

Thomas doesn't let him finish. “You  _ are _ ! You work so hard, you have such a big heart and we all know it's been harder for you recently and now it's our turn to take care of  _ you _ . There's nothing wrong with that.”

“Not at all…” his head tilts, Newt watching Tommy a moment. “What'll happen if I  _ do  _ get into MIT and decide to go there?”

“Then I'll go anywhere thats near to you… Stanford or Berkeley.” 

Newt nods. “I think…”

“You should apply Newt… it wouldn't hurt, even if they reject you, life goes on right?”

“Right,” Newt agrees. “Okay it's your turn to be reviewed.”

Thomas laughs, burrowing into Newts shoulder. “Ooohhh no, that's okay.”

“No, you have to get one too! I don't make the rules,” he says, grinning. “Okay… let's see…” he thinks. “My favorite memory with you is before we started dating… it was last year, during the Christmas party-”

“Wh-”

“Shhh I let you review me!”

“Okay  _ okay _ …”

“Okay so during the Christmas party, I remember you and I were outside on the balcony, our hands just barely touching, and you were talking all about some comic book you loved… your eyes had this sparkle and you were set. Absolutely set in that your favorite character was the best one. I remember thinking I'd never seen anyone so passionately beautiful before… and then suddenly you looked at me and you said…” he pauses, wanting to get the words right.

“I said you were my best friend. That I loved talking to you… and we almost kissed that night. Remember?”

“We did,” Newt agrees. “I had a boyfriend then and it was probably  _ lucky  _ that Minho walked out because I would've let you.”

“You had a boyfriend?”

“Yeah… he was okay at first but… nevermind that. Tonight's about me and you. And I'm still reviewing you. Oh! One change I could make, stay in bed longer, it's nice and warm when you're in bed, but the bed gets sad when you leave.”

“My mattress is just always devastated. Runs stay, maybe you should run with me.”

“Maybe  _ not _ .” They both laugh. 

“Wait you got to suggest a change, I suggest you…” Thomas pauses. “And I should go out more.”

“Reasonable enough,” Newt agrees. He shuts the book, putting it on the table. “Otherwise you're all around exceptional. Loving… caring… sweet. Oh and I  _ love  _ how when you smile you get these cute dimples in your cheeks.”

Thomas makes a face. “No…”

Newt nods. “Yes.” 

“You hate them.”

“I  _ love love love  _ them,” he teases though his expression is neutral. Newt shifts and kisses Thomas softly. “You've been a great boyfriend,” he says.

“What's my grade?”

“An A+. Stellar student,” he teases.

Thomas laughs. “What's your ex’s grade?”

“D for douchebag.”

Thomas laughs, kissing Newt with some force, the two clinging, mostly to stay  _ on  _ the couch. They're long passionate kisses, hands keeping the other close. Newt feels like he's floating, like he's okay and he's safe. His constant inner turmoil is, for a moment, sunken at the bottom of the ocean, the anchor that often kept him below a treacherous surface alleviated, for a moment, and he could breathe. Breathe easy, breathe steady between their harsh kisses, their passion filled, loved filled touches. The intent need for each other, the promises it held were more than anything.

They part and Thomas is grinning, Newt smiles too, kissing his lower lip briefly. “That's another thing, you're funny sometimes,” Thomas says. 

“That so?”

“Only sometimes though don't get too cocky.”

“I fancy to think I'm more funny than  _ you _ .”

“Wrong.”

“Wrong?”

“Yeah  _ you're  _ wrong. I'm way funnier than you!”

Newt laughs and Thomas yells  _ Ha!  _ “No!” Newt retaliates. 

“I win! I  _ win!”  _ He says scrambling to sit up and Newt smacks him with a pillow.

“You do not!”

“I do!”

Thomas gasped but he was grinning and grabbed a pillow, smacked Newt back. Newt laughs, hitting him again, swaying Thomas. Now  _ it's on  _ okay?  _ On!  _ Full on war wages between the two, pillow war. Though Newt hits Thomas to the ground first, skillfully by pulling off from pushing and then smacking his side so he topples over rather forward, in rapid succession to the floor. 

“Ha!” Newt says before Thomas yanks him down too, ending up a mess of limbs tangled on the floor. Newt huffs but before he can do anything Thomas whacks him again, giggling. Newt smacks him back. 

“I won! Don’t be sore.”

“It’s not over until we’ve really given in,” Thomas says and Newt whacks him again. Thomas throws the pillow at him and Newt throws his back before leaping up and ‘running’ to hide behind the armchair, Thomas grins and tries to catch him but fails and Newt snatches the pillow, protects himself from Thomas throwing another before chucking his own and reaching for the one Thomas threw, the two fighting over it, Newt ending up tumbling over the armchair and right into Thomas’ lap.

They both groan in pain, falling back but after a moment Thomas wiggles out and pins Newt right to the ground, pressing a searing (and  _ distracting _ ) kiss to his lips and he thinks this is it, he’s totally won Newt over, that is until Newt has  _ him  _ on the floor, trapped between his thighs (and Tommy would be lying if he didn’t think it was kinda hot). Newt is awfully proud of himself. 

“What? I know my way around a man's body,” he says, leaning down to kiss Thomas’ jaw, smirking as Thomas freezes. “3...2… FUCK!” 

Thomas gets him again, wrangling him off. “You aren’t that appealing.”

“I totally _ had  _ you.” 

“But you lost me.” 

They were on a sort of awkward angle, Newt on his back, Thomas sort of pinning him from the side with an arm and a leg, Newt rolls over and presses his head into Thomas’ stomach, pushing him back. “Gotch’ya!”

Thomas sighs in defeat as his head hits the floor. “ _ Ow. _ ”

Newt’s face flits with concern but Thomas grins before he has any time to freak out, they both melt back into their playful demeanors and Newt kisses him softly. Slowly. There’s a kind of bite to it, and Thomas feels that spark in his blood again, how his heart beat spikes. 

“I want  _ you _ ,” he sighs before he realizes, blushing a deep red and Newt looks moderately alarmed.

“What?”

“I…”

“Oh there’s no  _ way  _ I turned you on from a kiss like  _ that _ .”

“Not… like… I don’t know, I think we’re ready.”

“Ready?”

“For sex. Like… actual sex.”

Newt nods slowly. “This is Thomas talking with his brain not his dick right? Because sometimes when you’re horny you say things that are like… questionable.”

“I’m not deliriously turned on.”

Newt glances down and he hasn’t felt anything but okay  _ maybe _ Thomas was wearing really good underwear. “Did I kiss you different?” He asks, teasing.

“Do you not want to?”

“No- I mean, I want to just, I don’t know you’ve never… well I guess… I don’t know maybe I figured after I fingered you a couple times but I wasn’t… I don’t know, are you sure?”

“It’s been six months. Are you afraid I won’t like you anymore or something?”

“I never said-”

“You said your last boyfriend only wanted you for sex. I don’t want that. I want Newt, and I want…. I don’t know, I want this with you and today is really special to us… and I’d rather not my first time with you be on our one year and then you go away for  _ months  _ at home, and say we end up at different schools- I want to experience you and appreciate you.”

Newt nods slowly and he’s biting back a smile. “Okay… but I’m not doing it until you admit I won.”

Thomas head falls back and he looks up at the ceiling. “I didn’t give up.”

“You gave up when you decided sex with me was more important than winning.”

“No fair!” 

“Totally fair, it’s 1 to 1.”

“So you admit I’m funnier than you?”

“And nicer usually,” Newt says and they’re both grinning, meeting in a sweet gentle kiss. “Also prettier.”

“Liar.”

“Not a liar. Rob says I’m too pretty to be straight. Thoughts?”

“Weird thing for your boss to say but I agree.”

Newt shrugs. “You’re biased.”

“I am not biased.”

“You are!” 

“I am not!” 

“You’re my boyfriend, you are totally biased.”

Thomas shakes his head up at him. “You’re being  _ difficult. _ You’re definitely too pretty to even be my boyfriend.”

“Oh stop, just because Chuck thinks your ugly doesn’t mean I do.”

“Minho-”

“Minho is not prettier than you, I mean- he’s not my type. He’s a type just not mine.” 

“Because I’m your type?”

“You’re my only type.”

“Smooth motherfucker,” Thomas says laughing and Newt laughs too, the two kissing again. 

“I picked out these two songs I totally want to do it to. Like okay there’s a whole playlist of songs I would do it with you to but like… these two are my virginity loss songs.”

“You picked out songs?” Newt asks giggling. 

“I missed you the past two and a half days, so I like… I prepared. I washed the sheets upstairs and I did some research and got the top recommended lubes and really good condoms, which I think… would fit you? I mean we can always adjust to a new package if they’re uncomfortable or whatever. Also I know you think old fashion is romantic, so I totally put in soft lighting light bulbs and have wood for the fireplace. It really is the best looking room. Plus there’s a tv and netflix up there.”

“You’re absolutely lovely.”

“Master bedroom so a bath is attached to it.”

“God I  _ love _ you.” Newt laughs, kissing Thomas softly. “You’re so thoughtful.” 

“Does that add to my grade?”

“You're 100% there's nowhere else to go Tommy.” 

Thomas smiles and Newt is proud he caused it. “Extra credit is an option.”

“This is starting to feel like a really weird kink.”

“A little but that's the humor.”

Newt shakes his head and Thomas kisses him. Newt is still sitting on him, comfortable. “The humor is at fault. I think?”

They both shrug, laying there together in the content hold between them. Newt likes the sound of his heartbeat, the way the beating lulls him in. 

\---

It starts with simple touches, short, quick kisses against the bedroom door. He knows Thomas is determined to get it  _ right  _ because Thomas liked things to be right, to work out. Newt has to admit the two songs he picked were romantic, mood fitting. If he was honest, he was half expecting something ridiculous, and Newt is nervous… he’s never loved somebody like this, and suddenly he feels like Thomas will get to know a very different side of him. A very  _ vulnerable  _ side to him. 

He sighs as they part officially and he watches as Thomas pulls off his shirt, and Thomas is vulnerable too, they both are. Newt takes his hands and slowly pulls him closer. Thomas won’t meet his eyes really and Newt tilts his head up, kissing him long and soft and endearing. “We don’t have to do this,” Newt whispers. 

“I want to…”

“You’re sure?”

Thomas nods and he and Newt just search each other's eyes for any signs of rejection or fear. Newt slowly leans over and kisses subtle, faint kisses to the skin at his neck, working his way down. He crosses his chest, his navel, kissing his hips as he sinks to his knees. He gets rid of his own shirt, kissing at his stomach, soft, gentle, wet kisses and Thomas sighs audibly this time. Newt grins, proud of himself. His hands work at Thomas’ belt, glancing up at him. 

“This is okay?”

“This is fine,” Thomas assures, and Newt works him out of his pants, leaving his briefs on, kissing along his thighs, working towards the inside. His mouth never leaves the available skin and Thomas is melting,  _ let your body get used to this, let your body get used to it I’ll show you, how it’s supposed to feel  _ and Newt thinks he’s doing a good job, hands appreciatively running over his calves. Newt was better at physical affection, he was good at the kisses, the hugs, the touches, the hand holding. Emotions scared Newt, because he was an emotional wreck. But this he could do, easier than anything. 

And it’s not long that they’re naked on the bed, kissing slow. Newt is gentle, even if Thomas is eager. Thomas rocks his whole body down on the two fingers Newt has inside him, hand gripping his shoulder. 

“Touch like you mean it,” Thomas mumbles and Newt laughs softly.

“I’m taking care of you,” Newt assures, smile dancing on his lips. They meet in a kiss. “ _ Trust me _ Tommy.”

Thomas nods and Newt thinks maybe it’d be better on their sides like this, he wonders if it’ll hurt less, or maybe hurt more. “What are you thinking about?” Thomas whispers.

“Just… how you’d be most comfortable.”

“Position wise?”

“No I meant with how many pillows you wanted to sleep with after,” Newt teases and Thomas grins, biting Newts shoulder, and Newt crooks his fingers glancing over a certain spot that causes Thomas to grip him tight. Newt watches him, eyes sparkling with love. “I think it’ll hurt less on your back.”

“Does it hurt a lot?”

“At first, sort of. But after a minute or two, it… it feels good.”

Thomas nods. “I don’t want to wait, if you’re about to ask again.”

“You might bleed a little.”

“Did you?”

“A little, yeah. It’s not like you’ll bleeding a lot or anything, it washed off in the shower for me. You’ll be okay,” Newt promises and Thomas nods, tensing as Newt almost hits his prostate again. 

“You’re teasing.”

“Can’t cum yet.”

Thomas nods, nipping Newt’s neck, biting down a bit harder when Newt spreads his fingers, stretching Thomas open. He kisses this scar right on Newts shoulder, he's compelled to kiss all of his scars, to find each one. Though he's distracted by Newt removing his fingers, Thomas sighing softly, rolling onto his back and resting an arm over his head. Newt puts the lube and the condom down, kissing the soft flesh on the underside of his arm, Thomas giggling because secretly he's  _ very  _ ticklish. (“Secretly”) 

Newt grins and presses a few more. “So pretty, Tommy.”

“You're prettier.”

“That’s kinda gay,” Newt teases and Thomas rolls his eyes.

“Your dick is about to go up my ass and that’s kind of more gay.”

“Kind of but like, if we say no homo first it’ll be less gay.”

“Your logic is good,” Thomas says as if he’s genuinely compelled and they both melt into laughter, Newt’s hand cupping his face as their foreheads lean together, Newt’s thumb caressing Thomas’ cheek. “You’re  _ good _ ,” Thomas whispers before kissing him and they practically breathe into each other. It’s not long before he pushes Newt off, taking his hard member in his hand and Newt sighs, biting his lip. Thomas scooches a bit closer, grabbing the condom and considers ripping it with his teeth. He also doesn’t think he can pull it off, that is until he watches Newt snatch it from his hand using his own teeth and doing just that with ease, Tommy removing it from the package. 

“You’ll have to teach me your ways.”

“You’ll get it one day,” Newt teases. “That was part of Nates charm, once we had a condom ripping competition.”

“Nate?”

“My ex. Used to smoke with all the windows and a fan on in the dead of winter.”

“Yeah?”

He nods laughing. “I’ll teach you, I picked up a few things from that.”

“Fancy condom opening?”

“Yeah, funny enough we banged after that.”

“Why’s that funny?”

“I don’t know, I thought it was at the time. We went from like blowing them up and throwing them and spitting wrappers at each other to fucking.”

“Were you happy with him?”

“Once every other week, yeah.”

Newt shrugs and Thomas nods. “Are you happy with me?”

“Most hours of the day, most days of the week… used to think about you sometimes,” Newt says before sighing as Thomas rolls the condom on Newt, and okay, if he doesn’t think about how hard he is, then it doesn’t hurt so bad, he thinks the same must be applying to Newt, though Newt seems absolutely thankful for Thomas’ touch. 

“What do you mean?”

“Like… first time we had sex, I remember coming back to our dorm and thinking about what it’d be like with you before deciding that it wasn’t worth it because you would never think of me like that.”

“Obviously you were wrong,” Thomas says, offering Newt the lube with a glint in his eyes and Newt grins, popping the bottle cap open and Thomas offers his hand. “What? It’s no fun if you do it yourself.”

Newt nods, smiling and he puts a generous amount on Thomas’ hand. The movement is familiar, Thomas wrapping his hand around his dick, twisting his hand  _ just right.  _ Newt moans softly, kissing Thomas, the two swaying backwards, Newt wriggling to get between his legs, and Thomas spreads them, their bodies warm and the room was warmer because of the fire. The music behind him echoed  _ I… be-long to… you-ooo ooo. You ooo ooo.  _ Their mouths touched and they were kissing a bit more desperate now, Newt moving Thomas hand before taking his thigh and pressing it up, gently, he pulls back, kneeling before leaning forward and kissing the skin of Thomas thigh. He lines up with Thomas’ entrance and watches him for any sort of reaction, denial, or fear. Thomas just nods, adjusting his hips. 

“Please, I swear if anything happens or hurts too much I’ll tell you okay?”

Newt nods, and he pushes in, slowly, with only as much force that's needed. He stops after an inch or two, rubbing Thomas thigh, letting him adjust slowly. “I’m okay, doll,” Thomas says after a second and Newt nods, exhaling slowly, keeping his control as he pushes in just a bit more, and continuing until he’s bottomed out. He adjusts so he’s leaning on his elbows, pressing kissing to Thomas neck. The shift makes Thomas moan, Newt looks up but he has this cute, sort of confused, blissful look on his face. His brows threaded together, mouth parted in an ‘o’ and his hand gripped the pillow just enough that his muscles sort of flexed under the skin. Newt presses an open mouthed kiss to his neck before grinning. 

“You’re so pretty…”

“God please  _ move _ , I’m getting antsy.”

“Everything has to be fast with you?”

“Faster than this would be appreciated.”

“You’re sure it doesn’t hurt?”

“It’s a good kind of pain… Newt  _ please _ ?”

Newt nods slowly, rolling his hips just a bit faster, not wanting to overwhelm Thomas with anything rougher. He adjusts, his hand going back to Tommy’s left thigh and pushing it back up, the angle changing a bit and Thomas gasps, hand tightening on the pillow, his other arm pulling Newt into a kiss. Newt had pulled out more than before, his whole body rolling right back into Thomas, their mouths just barely parting to moan. They were both a little overwhelmed by each other, kissing passionately, hardly breathing, tumbling right into a sex blissed daze. 

See Thomas hasn’t come this quickly since he was 14, and it’s  _ intense _ . Like the whole world was sort of spinning and like he’s underwater, drowning in that way that was good. He can hear the song so clearly  _ I belong to you  _ and he hardly is able to keep his eyes open to see Newt cum too but god what he does see is really nice- how Newt just sort of relaxes, how his eyes flutter shut, how his body sort of tenses, and they fit so perfectly- Thomas has to wonder if anyone else could make him like the whole universe had boiled up inside of him. His breath is harsh and his body is slowly sinking into the bed, he hadn’t even realized he’d arched his back. Newt slowly pulls out and Thomas can’t really feel much of anything that isn’t good, and he just wants to laugh until he can’t breathe, kiss Newt until they have bruised lips because he’s never felt so at ease with everything around him. 

It’s strange, because everybody talks about how great sex is, just as an activity. That it doesn’t  _ have to change anything  _ but Thomas is absolutely positive, right there and then, that he’s full of everything in the universe and that the stars are woven in Newt’s eyes. Newt  **is** stardust and iron, after all, he’s all the good things. He had thought that after their first kiss, when Newt had squared his shoulders, looked him dead in the eyes and asked him how he knew he wanted to be kissed, and then told him to get on with it, to kiss him. He remembered thinking that it would just be nothing, but then they kissed and he felt fireworks explode in his stomach. Newt was a good fair amount of things, but iron and stardust were his composition. He was a strong metal, hardly damaged, on the outside, and stardust because he was beautiful, damaged pieces, this glowing flame that lit the skies. 

And he laughs, cover his eyes and Newt looks at him alarmed as he returns to bed with washed hands and the condom gone. Thomas shakes his head, laughing because it feels so ridiculous that Newt could just  _ change everything  _ and Thomas was so okay with it. It was the best feeling, to be full of the universe, and well Newt was the universe and he found that so abstractly beautiful and strange and demeaning. He always expected to feel pain and shame for sleeping with anybody, but all he felt was this unbearable happiness that somehow he was valid and enough. Enough for Newt, the most wonderful thing on the whole world. 

“Tommy… darling?”

“You make me  **s o** happy,” he says, trying to calm down before laughing for a moment and Newt’s worry melts away and he’s laughing too, because god he thought he’d done something wrong and maybe Thomas was mad, but that was not the case at all and now they’re both just laughing, as hysterical as possible and holding hands, Newt curled into his chest. And they stop, look at each other and then they’re laughing again. It was Thomas, Newt and the stars between their hands. Newt doesn’t think he’s ever loved so greatly with his whole heart, and he feels their lips brush and they both burst into laughter before pressing a soft kiss to the others mouth. 

It was intoxicating, to just laugh, and laugh. They laughed and kissed between each bout of laughter until they were tired. Until they were just lying there. They’re lying on their backs, their bodies bare and perhaps a bit bruised and they just lay there, with the warm lights illuminating their skin, their hands laced, and they stared at the stippled ceiling that had glitter that sort of reflected like the stars so distant from earth. 

“I love you,” Newt says after a minute. “I know I’m real shit sometimes and I can be so hard to deal with and I forget to tell you or say hi when I walk into a room… but I do love you. Every single part of you, every story you tell, every stupid thing you do… sort of even love how dedicated you are to your running.”

Thomas kisses his cheek. “I love you too. You and all your pieces, broken or not…. Scars too.”

Newt nods, kissing his shoulder. “We’ve got to shower.”

“I don’t want to move.”

“You’ll be less sore… plus we can put on those clothes we brought in case we went swimming.”

Thomas gasps. “Ugh we didn’t go cold water swimming! How could we forget?”

“You forgot, I just didn’t want hypothermia,” Newt admits and they both grin. Newt thinks his whole world has gained a new perspective, something shines brighter, his chest feels lighter. He convinces Thomas up, and in the shower he adorns Thomas with kisses, he washes his hair, his thighs. He wipes the blood and the semen away, the two shielded by warm water. They change and they get under the covers this time. Newt first takes his depression pills and is checking his phone. 

_ Minho: Where are you? _

_ Minho: are you okay? _

_ Minho: newt? Why are you not answering? _

_ Newt: Sorry sorry we were watching a movie- don’t think we’ll make it home tonight, please just make something up for us??  _

_ Minho: …. I texted you like 45 minutes ago ?  _

_ Newt: it was a good movie _

_ Minho: What movie? _

_ Minho: where even are you? _

_ Newt: shhh I’ll tell you everything later just please do this for me? _

_ Minho: ………. _

_ Minho: fine you owe me _

_ Newt: Basically got you a date with brenda tomorrow. Good enough.  _

_ Newt: gn ly  _

_ Minho: yeah fine ly2 gn _

Newt realizes he forgot his sleeping pills but goes back upstairs to find Thomas curled up in his sweater that was a little too big on Thomas (maybe more than a little too big on him) and he leans over and kisses him, wearing Thomas’ sweater on his own body, hugging himself before grabbing his notebook. 

**Words that remind me of Tommy**

 

  1. **Minutiae - the small, unique things about a person**
  2. **Kilig - that butterfly feeling in your stomach when you look at the right person**
  3. **Trouvaille - french word for “find” but in english it means finding something lucky or being lucky enough to find something special**
  4. **Vadon - wilderness or untracted land. Tommy is wild and undiscovered and so many parts of him are open to find, he is the wild, he’s the image of boys running between trees in a blur, laughing as they fall into the safety of decaying leaves from an autumn so far away**
  5. **Wonderwall - because I’m always thinking of Tommy**
  6. **Orenda - because Thomas makes me want to change for the better, he made everything inside me feel driven with a new sort of life**
  7. **Elysian - the exact word that describes Tommy; beautiful and creative.**
  8. **Redamancy - being loved back. Tommy loves me back. I love him. It’s love in full and I am fully loved. Isn’t that great?**
  9. **Ethereal - delicate and light in a way that seems to gorgeous for earth. Ethereal is my favorite word.**
  10. **Kalverliefde - the dutch word for two young people in love. This is often Temporary Thomas was not temporary**



 

Thomas was fast asleep but Newt was sleepless, restless. His body was just willing to get up and wander. So he gets up and goes downstairs, pulling a throw blanket around his shoulders. He walks around the house and he restarts the fire and he walks back downstairs, looks at the books written in polish along the walls, glances at the pictures. He looks out the window and he almost thinks somebody will look back, out of fear he steps away and rushes back upstairs to the comfort of their bedroom, his anxiety causing him to shake. He hates to think that at any given point, anybody could come in and hurt them, but that’s his heads favorite thought. Somebody being outside. He curls up by the fire and hugs his knees until he calms down. He crawls into the warm bed and plugs his headphones in and just listens. He feels Thomas hug him, he holds Thomas’ hand and eventually Thomas shifts and Newt gets up again, just looking out the window out at the ground below. He hates that he thinks maybe something is moving. The fire light is the only light and by morning he’s exhausted but can’t sleep. His phone is charging and he’s just squeezing his eyes shut. Hoping to sleep. Wanting to sleep. There is no sleep for the wicked it seems. (Though Newt is not wicked at all, no matter what he says he is or is to be.) 

“You forgot your pills,” Thomas mumbles softly and Newt nods slowly.

“I mean I can sleep without them but I just… I dunno, my blood wouldn’t rest.”

Thomas nods and they kiss, Newt curling into him. “We should go to Sunday church,” Newt says after a while. 

“Why?”

“It feels like the kind of sunday where you go to church.”

Thomas nods and they both put on the spare dress clothes they brought. (Newt always liked to be prepared.) Newt laces his boots and Thomas just watches him, the way the light always reflects him so beautifully. They bring their stuff to the car before Newt tugs his hands. “We have time, it’s only 7 Am… let’s take a walk first.”

_ Just like Yesterday, Thomas remembers Newt waking up extra early and creating a leash out of rope to walk Renegade. In small, slow circles at first and Newt seemed so happy then. He took his pills like clockwork and he walked Renegade in slowly widening circles. Newt had this sort of reverence for nature, in which one morning he just finds Newt by the trees, and they lay in the dirt and decay of leaves with Renegade until the sun was high in the sky. They laced hands hesitantly before Thomas kissed his knuckles.  _

_ “My favorite place, behind my Nana’s house, is this big wood. It always felt like there was something magical there. I used to sleep there on the nights where everything felt bad.” _

_ “Sometimes I look at the sun and I wonder if that’s where heaven is. Or if the sun is god and that’s why we can’t look directly at it. You can’t look at the divine, he is so revenant its blinding.” _

_ “How do you know?” _

_ “That’s what the Muslims say. I trust them.”  _

_ Thomas nods. “Sometimes, I wondered if it’d just be better to die and give up than go on at all, but then I remember I have people like you. Doesn’t feel so bad.” _

_ “What feels bad?”  _

_ “Sometimes I wish I had my mom… I don’t think I’ll ever be okay with my dad.” _

_ Newt was the only Gladesville person to know this. He trusted Newt. he trusted Newt. _

They’re walking on an unknown trail in the woods behind the cabin, they stop to stare at the sun and Newt leans against him, hugging him. Newt trusts him too. 

\--- 

You don’t see God, you feel the everlasting presence of God. You just feel it, it clenches your heart with such an emotion you want to cry. Your eyes tear up and you just know, you know that God is there. God is there, and he is standing with you. Newt doesn’t really care much whether people think a gay man can believe in God or not, especially if he’s committed himself to a relationship, Newt thinks that if God didn’t want men to be gay, it simply wouldn’t exist. And Newt thinks that if he wasn’t meant to remember the reverence then he would never feel so strongly connected. Perhaps God is a choice, but Newt doesn’t believe it to be a choice more than a calling, a destiny, a term of fate. 

Some people believe, simply because they are meant to believe.

Newt folds his hands, eyes tracing the arches of the church, watching light through the stain glass. He’s barely listening to the service, there’s very few people here, a family or two, and they all look at him and Thomas with a burning distaste, for one reason or another. Though he’s not bothered, settled in the furthest pew, just staring up at the arches and the stories written in glass. He feels that he is much like the glass shards, cut into the bold color of many stories, pieced to fit the picture with his brokenness. Why couldn’t he be a painting? Thick color, suspended in time, beautiful, good. Why did he have to be broken glass?

Newt tilts his head back just for a few seconds before his eyes flit open and he traces the arches again, how they look like sails in the ocean. He wants to reach out and touch them, he wants to be on the ocean, watching the waves pass. He wonders what it must feel like, falling in such mass amounts of water, letting it suffocate you- is the pain immense or is it so painful your numb and all you see is blue, blue water? He closes his eyes and instead of water he sees light. God must be the sun because God is so immense and beautiful you can’t look at him and you can’t look at the sun. And God shines his light on all people regardless, and the sun always shines. 

He opens his eyes again and just looks around, at each family, who want to believe their version of whatever beliefs they had were right. Newt doesn’t know if he has many religious beliefs, he just knows that sitting here feels right, and that his hands don’t shake. It feels like a safe haven for the damned and broken. He feels less damned and much less broken sitting here, letting the church songs of the choir chime, the way the organ echoes off the walls.  

The service ends and Newt just laces their hands. The light filters through with specks of dust, the others filter out, with not much talk. He just sits there, feeling God the way that people do. He wants to cry, he wants to cry for many reasons but mostly because when you face God, you face vulnerability. He feels everything and nothing at once. He feels his pure, intense hatred for himself, how he’s not good enough or smart enough, or real enough, or fake enough, how he isn’t what he’s supposed to be, he feels all his doubts but there is an underlying reassurance inside him, that said it was okay. And yet Newt feels resoundly vulnerable and sad, not only for himself but for the dying world around him, all the people with hatred in their hearts, and he laughs, tears in his eyes. God he was  _ terrible _ , he was  _ weak _ . (Thomas could tell you that Newt was the strongest person he ever met though. He could name a thousand times Newt was the most amazing person he’d ever known.) 

Deep inside of himself, Newt feels a desperation for some sort of hope, and they hope clutches his heart and he isn’t sure how to keep it there. How to keep telling himself life will be okay and everything would be okay. He feels disgustingly helpless. He just wants everything to be okay. He wants to know that it’ll be okay, that this hope he gets in this church isn’t going to always be fleeting. 

“Tommy?”

“Hm?”

“Tell me it’s going to be okay…”

Thomas looks at him with this soft expression, kissing his cheek softly. He doesn’t know if you can do that in church, the priest just sort of watches the two from his position. They’re the only ones left. “ **_You’re_ ** going to be okay…” 

He let’s Newt fall into his chest, and Thomas just holds him and let’s him silently cry.  _ I promise, you’ll be okay, if not today, maybe tomorrow and if not tomorrow the tomorrow after. You’ll be okay, you’ll be okay. You’ll be okay.  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I probably should have slept 4 hours ago, I am beyond exhausted, this took 3 days to write and I didn't even get to fully proof read it so I'll try and do that tomorrow?? I just really wanted to get something up tonight.  
> PLEASE comment I really do think your comments and asks on tumblr make my day, they are always so sweet.  
> DON'T KNOW WHAT TO COMMENT?  
> 1\. favorite line?  
> 2\. favorite part?  
> 3\. favorite chapter? Is it this one is it not?  
> 4\. Could I do better, was this chapter lacking?  
> 5\. A general comment  
> 6\. predictions for the future chapters, or how you would like to see the story go  
> THANKS AGAIN LOVES  
> my tumblr: waldenbeckboys


	15. The Great Duck of Beyond

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thomas and Newt take a while to get home after church, Downton night ensues!   
> Time skip next chapter? (skipping over halloween sorry we have all of senior year to get through and well the november chapter is v important, you'll see)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I was working my butt off for two days, I'mma be working my butt off painting the set of the show all week and also I have actual work at my job and school and homework BUT YA GIRL IS STILL GONNA TRY AND GET THESE CHAPTERS UP ayy  
> also rip i might fail my bio test

The car is silent as Video Games by Lana Del Rey echoes through the speakers. There was this sort of nostalgic feeling fill his chest, and he thinks that his whole world is for Newt, and he feels the lingering pieces of summer light his veins.Thomas was driving them home, Newt having pulled Thomas’ sweater over his body again, the two not speaking, just breathing in the aftermath of Newts breakdown. (If you could call it that). Finally he braves a glance, to see If Newts angry or upset, but to his surprise Newt is fast asleep, hugging Thomas’ sweater to his body, hair over his eyes, lips parted, head tilted against the seatbelt. He was so beautiful, the way he just seemed to blend in with the sunlight, skin soft seeming, hair parted perfectly, and every breath he took filled Thomas’ lungs but also stole all his breath. Newt was sleeping, he was going to be okay. Not that Thomas could let Newt  _ not  _ be okay. 

Glancing around Thomas knows going straight leads to the school but instead he turns his blinker on and goes left towards a sort of community highway. Scenery passes him, fields that remind him of home, long winding roads. Street light, after streetlight. Signs that say ‘wine here!’ or ‘Cattle Crossing’ or ‘Fresh Eggs!’ pass by. The sky dances above him, the clouds moving languidly across the sky, or so he thinks. They’re probably moving faster than he can even really imagine. There’s some places that have Giant Ice Cream Cones in front, one of them is a nail salon with a giant hand piece in the front, Newt would’ve loved that if he was awake. He drives for hours, driving down the highway, into niche towns. He isn't sure when Newt wakes up but its been 2 hours and he'd stopped for Gas.

“Where are we going?” Newt mumbles, sleepily.

“Nowhere,” Thomas says. 

“Liar.” 

“Really, I just thought you deserved to sleep.”

Newt nods, taking Tommys hand and kissing his knuckles, then his fingers before leaning his cheek on his sleep. “Im exhausted.”

“Lay down in the back seat,” Thomas whispers, kissing Newts head. “I have a blanket.”

“But who will talk to you?”

“Nobody, I have the radio. We can drive through again so you can see everything.”

Newt sighs, looking up at Thomas. He's about to apologize when Thomas hesitantly kisses him and Newt kisses him back, squeezing his hand, as if he depended on his touch. Thomas isn't entirely sure how he found someone who loved him so much. “Where are we?”

“Few towns over? I missed the sign…”

Newt nods. “Let's find a coffee shop.”

“Babe you're a coffee addict.”

“I love coffee.  _ Adore  _ coffee. I'd totally take a bath in coffee. Coffee? I'd  _ marry  _ it,” Newt wildly exaggerates and Thomas can't help the smile that blooms on his face. 

“Crazy shit,” he says. “Don’t you brits love tea though?”

“Tea is subtle, wake up in the morning with a breath of fresh air, have something soft. I need to really be punched in the gut with caffeine. Hard, bitter, coffee. The pain keeps you human.”

“Crazy shit,” Thomas reitterates. “You’re  _ insane _ .”

Newt grins, pressing another kiss to Thomas’ knuckles, his hair still dusting over his eyes. “Yeah but only sometimes.”

“What do you put in your coffee that you experience it that way, exactly?” Thomas asks, watching him with soft eyes.  _ I miss you on my teeth  _ echoes through the radio and Newt glances up at the sad song. 

“This is nice, what is this?”

Thomas checks his phone. “To the Hilt by Banks?”

He nods before grinning. “Everything in America is a ripe punch to the gut,” He clarifies. “It’s your freedom that nobody else has.” 

“Oh my god, Newt,” Thomas says, a breathless laugh passing his lips and his shoulders shake with silent laughter, pressing his head to the steering wheel. 

“It wasn’t that funny, Tommy,” Newt insists, smiling at him. 

“Stop that was so ridiculous.”

“What? You were born here, you don’t know how everything tastes like rudimentary government with valid attempts to imitate all other lawful ones and gutted failure.” 

“It’s like Bush.”

Newt nods, brows raising as he shrugs. “Yeah, sort of.” 

“America isn’t that bad.  We have Obama.”

“You’re right, it’s not that bad, but that’s what I’m supposed to say. Not a Yankee. Nor a traitor I do believe.”

“Loyal to the Queen?”

“I would not only die for Queen Elizabeth, I would marry her.”

Thomas laughs. “Really?”

“What an Icon. I love her, actually. Like really, Queen Elizabeth is spectacular.”

“What has she accomplished exactly, Sammy?”

“ _ Sammy _ ?”

“It’s your name, I can call you that can’t I?”

Newt sort of squints at him, adjusting in their position. “Take me to a coffee location and I’ll consider it.” He has this sort of smirk, head tilted so he’s got this coy kind of side eye. He flicks his brows up and Thomas sighs, turning the car on. 

“You need coffee to consider what I can call you?”

“Why Sammy?”

“Because that’s who you are.”

“I’m Newt.”

“Not Just Newt though. Newt is who… you say you are.”

“So what, this has some deeper psychological meaning?”

“It just slipped but I don’t know, your sister calls you Sammy.”

“Because she’s my sister. She’s the only one.”

“You could be Sammy.”

“I don’t know…” 

Newt shrugs and Thomas laces their hands again, squeezing. “You don’t have to be. It just slipped.”

Newt pauses and Thomas isn’t really sure what he’s about to say, he seems so lost in thought, and he sort of takes a really deep breath before he looks at Thomas, head tilting down for a moment before he shrugs. “Queen Elizabeth has accomplished many things, Tommy.”

Thomas smiles and it’s that confused sort of smile he get’s when he’s not entirely sure what’s going through Newt’s head, or why Newt says what he does but he takes that he’s accepting what Thomas said. “Okay,” Thomas whispers, nodding still confused.

“Okay is correct, she’s good at her job.” 

They both nod and Newt nudges him. “Did you forget how to drive?” he whispers.

“I’m confused.”

“On how to drive?”

“Was that an answer?”

“To your question?”

“About calling you Sammy?”

“I said I’d think about it and then I answered your other question.”

“Stop doing that.”

“What?”

“Internalizing. You thought way too hard about it to be… an answer about Queen Elizabeth.”

“It doesn’t feel wrong,” Newt says.

“What?”

“You calling me Sammy, it doesn’t feel wrong…”

“Why would it feel wrong?”

He shrugs. “Over time Sam wasn’t really my name anymore. I was just Newt. I always am Just Newt and Sunny calls me that because I trust her with my whole life, I always have. It’s reserved for her because… I don’t know she was the only person I ever really trusted full heartedly, who knew everything about me. She knew Sam and she knew Newt. I guess you’re sort of the same.”

“You’re saying I’m like your sister?”

“Not in a gross way, you smug shit.”

“Newt?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you for trusting me.”

“It’s not anything to thank me over.”

He shrugs. “It is…”

“It’s not.”

Thomas stares at him and Newt rolls his eyes, shrugging to dispel some of the weight on him. “I like Sam as much as I like Newt.”

“Sam and Newt are the same person.”

“Yeah but they mean different things to you.”

“I guess.”

“They do.”

“Yeah, they do,” Newt admits and Thomas finally starts to drive. It’s only been a few minutes but time feels like it’s stretching on its ends. Newt is quiet this time and Thomas just waits, waits for Newt to speak because he knows it’s  _ hard  _ for Newt to express these things, to talk about all the turmoil he feels inside. About the boas and thorns, the storm in his chest. “I don’t know, Sam is the part of me that messes up, because Newt is the perfect person everybody knows. I’m expected to be Newt, nobody sees Sam.”

“Sam is the bad parts?”

“The depression, irrational anger, the hurt, the pain, the resentment, my  _ sexuality _ .” 

“Being gay isn’t bad,” Thomas says. 

“No but it’s a secret.”

“All the other things are secrets?”

“You don’t know what I don’t tell you. You don’t know how much time and energy it takes to keep composed and be nice and empathize with people. You don’t just tell people you’re depressed because they always either feel bad, think you’re incapable or both. I don’t want any of that.”

“Newt…”

“It’s true! It is… And I guess you’re there when the doors close, you see some of it, but it’s… I don’t know it’s a lot. I mean… there’s so much more to it, like there’s all this inside of me, self doubt, and all that, that I just can’t… explain.”

“It’s okay.”

“Sam is all the secrets, he’s the hurricane that says everything is bad or that I’m not enough.” 

“You’re enough for _ me _ , Samuel Newton. Every part to your whole, it’s enough.” 

Newt looks down at the sweater sleeves, hugging his sides. “Thank you,” he whispers and Thomas hears it, nodding. “I mean it, thank you,” he says again. “All the parts to my whole are scary.”

“I’m not afraid of you. I don’t think Minho is either.”

“He is… but he has good reason.”

“What do you mean?”

Newt shakes his head. “He and I are the only ones who know that story.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s my darkest secret.”

“Oh.”

“I can’t talk about it,” he whispers and Thomas offers his hand on the console. Newt takes it, hugging it to his chest, anchoring himself. “I’m sorry.”

“Newt it’s okay… Whatever it is, you don’t have to tell me.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Thomas insists. 

Newt nods and he pulls into a cafe that has this very poppy sign. The sky is bright blue with hope, white clouds that carry dreams. “I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“About what? Your name?”

“It’s nothing,” he says. “Maybe we should just go home.”

“Hey, no, we’re here and we’re staying for coffee while you tell me all about how great Queen Elizabeth is.”

“Thomas..”

“Stop, you didn’t ruin anything. Nothing’s different.”

Newt nods and he trusts Thomas, trusts him with his whole life, and when Thomas kisses him, he believes him. Believes that it’s okay. (It is.) 

They walk into the dull seeming coffee shop, it’s a lot of dark wood, black accents, pops of yellow. Basic interior design mechanism. Minimalistic at best. He sees the walls of books and picks a booth under the ‘literature’ section. Newt can’t help it, he’s a slut for literature. “Look,” he says rather serious. “I know you’re going to smile and say how endearing and charming my love for books is right now, but I promise in twenty five minutes you’re going to hate me.”

“You’re going to pull out 1984 and do the side by side comparison with Brave New World again aren’t you?”

“Oh hell yeah, I’m so passionate about it, I have new points.”

“Really?”

“We might be here a while.”

“What about the contemporary fiction section? There’s some good books there.”

“Tommy? No. NO. You don’t understand how much I need-”

“Oh my god, we’ve done this before!”

“Improved points  **and** new points.”

“Oy with the poodles already.”

“See? I told you you’d love that show.”

“Lame that you got the reference.”

“Lamer that you made it.”

A waitress comes over with menus, her smile as wide as the road outside. Her voice was sugary and sweet and Newt just smiles back. She was doing her job, he does it too. All the time. “I’ll give you time to think?”

They both nod. They fall into silence, looking over their menus, eyes glazing over the drinks. Newt is in coffee heaven, but he also just wants a plain coffee, black with some sugar. But he can’t drink it black, so he pushes down the craving and thinks cream would be nice too. “I’ll have a sugar and spice latte, if you don’t mind,” he says when the waitress returns and Thomas orders a black coffee with honey on the side. If there was anything Thomas loved for certain, it was honey. He would take a spoonful in the summer and put a small piece of watermelon ontop and just suck on it, until it melted in his mouth. They did this their whole trip, laying on porch swings or sitting in beach chairs. It was a good trick. 

Newt is able to pick out the two books before the drinks get back, and by the time they do come back, he has his first pages picked out. Thomas smiles. 

“Do you charge for refills by any chance?”

She thinks. “For you boys it’s free,” the young woman says and they both smile. They’ll tip good, so it makes up for her decision. 

“Okay, now that you have caffeine, let’s begin.” 

\---

Newt is happy to be home, to be in bed, he had slept the whole way back too and he was tired. Minho doesn’t say much past hello, working on a project, eyes practically crossed in concentration as he glues together a model of a DNA molecule. The others do kind of look to them with questioning eyes and confusion. Alby stares right through him though and he rushes past Thomas and shuts the door behind Newt.

“What’s up with you two?” Alby asks and Newt jumps, turning around, bag dropping to the floor. Dark eyes are wide with alarm. 

“What?”

“You and the Greenie, what’s going on?”

“He’s not a greenie anymore.”

“Why won’t you answer?”

“It’s none of your business.”

“What’s that-”

“Listen, you’re not currently in a position to be asking things of me or demanding answers.”

“You were gone all last night.”

“We were having fun. You forget to come home all the time.”

“So what, you’re not going to tell anybody where you were?”

“I don’t owe it to you.”

(Outside the bedroom)

Winston and Frypan stare at Thomas in question, Gally leaning against the back of the couch boredly. “So you gonna tell us where you two were… or?”

“We went out last night, and then we got tired and I had a house near where we were so we stayed there. Newt wanted to go to Church so we went to church and he fell asleep so I just drove around while he slept because you know how he gets.”

They all sort of nod and Gally sort of squints. “Sure,” he accepts.

“Jealous?” Thomas teases and Gally’s head falls back.

“As if I’d fall in love with your ugly fucking face.”

“I think I’m cute.”

“Yeah? Keep it to yourself.”

“You  _ are  _ jealous! I’ll take you out, we can get dinner tonight,” Thomas cooes and the others laugh. Gally’s nostrils flare, arms crossed. 

“I don’t like you!”

(back in the bedroom) 

“I don’t understand why you can’t just talk to me like you used to!” Alby demands. 

“Because it’s not the same! You know it’s not.”

“Why, because Minho went to that stupid therapy thing and I didn’t?” 

Newt has to stop himself from attacking Alby. “that stupid therapy thing saved my life, so yeah, maybe it’s part of it. Also that you never make time for me.”

“I do-”

“You don’t!”

“Stop-” 

“Get out,” Newt snaps. “Get out! Just go! Stop acting like it’s my fault! I don’t have to chase you, okay? I don’t have to beg for your attention, I  _ don’t! _ If you cared, you would be there. You aren’t.” 

He throws the door open and there’s a terrifying amount of fire in Newt’s eyes, his lips sort of pursed, his jaw locked, his hands are shaking with the anxiety. Alby understood now how some people could be so afraid of Newt, he was absolutely terrifying when he wanted to be, he was absolutely terrifying when hurt. “I’m not playing any sort of games, okay? So get out.”

Alby does and he wants to say something but he can’t. Even Minho is looking now, and Minho slips off the chair and goes to replace Alby’s spot in the room, Thomas raises a brow at him, everyone else falls silent. The truth of the matter, Alby realizes, is that most seemed to like Newt a lot more than him now. 

“Man what did you do?” Frypan said. “That’s messed up, you know he’s hurting and shit.”

“I-”

“Forget it,” Winston says. “That’s none of our business.” 

Inside the room, Minho and Newt just lay on the plush carpet on the floor, hands laced as Newt hides in his shoulder, biting back the tears. His face is flushed, and his eyes are shut. “Forget him.”

“I panicked.”

“He doesn’t mean it.”

“He’s just so difficult.” 

“It’s okay.”

“Is it?”

“It is.” Minho grins. “So you were watching a movie last night, huh?”

Newts eyes open quick, glancing over Minho’s smug features, calculating his each thought and word. “Maybe…”

“Yeah?”

“ _ Yeah _ .” Newt shrugs, unable to contain his grin. “He’s so precious, I love him so much.”

“Aww,” Minho says punching his arm lightly, playful and Newt’s head lolls back, laughing. “You’re  _ in loooove!”  _

“Shhh,” Newt shushes, swatting at Minho. “People can hear you probably.”

“Did you finally do it?”

“Maybe…?”

“Come on, you think I don’t know he’s been planning to do you?”

“Do  _ me _ ? I did him, don’t play yourself.”

Minho scoffs. “For real?”

“I’m an Alpha Male, or whatever straight white guys call themselves.”

“The reddit guys?”

“Yeah,” Newt says. “Like that kid Eddie.”

“He’s crazy.”

“Nuts.” 

“Was the pun intended?”

“What? No!”

They’re both smiling, small huffs of laughter passing between them. Newt looks up at the ceiling, there are no sparkle stars here and he misses being alone with Thomas, in his arms, laughing until he can’t breathe because everything is just right. He misses the night before, where they were together. He wants to pull Thomas close and apologize, over and over again. Newt doesn’t though. Not yet. 

“Downton is on soon.”

“Yeah, Brenda is coming soon.”

“Shit.”

“You should wear something nicer.”

“Won’t it seem obvious then?”

“Nah, I look okay. So does Thomas.”

“Yeah but you guys fucked, you like  _ want  _ to look nice for each other.”

“That makes no sense.”

“It’s like… you know when you start having sex with somebody, you’re like ‘oh shit do i look good?? Do you think they’re looking at me?’ maybe you don’t notice yet, but you will.”

“What are you hiding?”

“Nothing from you. You remember that girl I dated, the one my parents would’ve loved?”

“Oh and she felt so bad about your relationship she moved back to South Korea or something?”

“Don’t say it like that! She was an exchange student!”

“She still moved back.”

“Heard she became a nun…”

“Oh,” Newt says, intrigued. “What’s the Hamlet quote? Off to the nunnery with you?”

“If anybody belongs to a nunnery it’s you.”

“I went to church today. I was good.”

“Good,” Minho says nodding. “I went to church too. I saw my Grandma’s friend, that was interesting.”

“I cried. The priest just watched, pitying us.”

“She tried to get me to marry her great niece?”

“It was a good cry I think.”

“She was… not my type let’s put it like that.”

“Brenda’s your type.”

“ _ Yeahhh _ she is.”

“Whipped,” Newt whispers jokingly and Minho laughs.

“How does everything sound better with your accent?”

“It’s just because you’re American, my sister would say I sound bloody stupid.” 

Thomas knocks before walking in. “Can I change now?”

“Nobody is stopping you, we’ve both seen you naked,” Minho says and Newt laughs. 

“When have you seen him naked?” Newt asks. 

“The showers. He’s got butt dimples.”

“Cute butt dimples,” Newt agrees. “And little freckles and moles on his back.”

“Yeah! But his legs are hairy.”

“They are, but it’s okay, makes him more of a man. My ex is- what’s that saying Teresa always uses?  _ Rattled _ ?”

Thomas is bright pink, hugging the strap of his bag to his chest, leaning against the closed door. “You’re both terrible.”

“Aww we love Teresa, it’s out of love and fun!” Newt assures and Thomas chucks his bag at Newt who just puts it aside. 

Thomas tosses his shirt and chucks it at Minho. “I don’t have butt dimples.”

“You do they’re cute,” Newt assures. 

“Ugh.” 

\---

Brenda and Minho were outside on the balcony, having a blast, Newt was a mess after the episode of downton and the rest of the boys, Chuck included were just listening to Newt ramble about why this episode was so profoundly great. 

“Newt, I can’t even understand what you’re saying,” Chuck says before squinting. “That didn’t sound right. Was that english? He’s rubbing off on me.”

“Listen, it was bloody beautiful and I can’t handle that much beauty.”

“You just did?” Frypan says. Teresa nods. 

“You did.”

Thomas shrugs. “I still don’t know why the blonde girl is there.”

“Rose?” 

“Yeah, her.”

“She’s been there since Series 3?”

“Season.”

“Series.”

“Season!”

“We created the language, I would know!”

“You did not!”

“You think this baby of a country created fucking English, Tommy?”

“Yes!”

Newt sets him with a look and Thomas sets him with one back, though everybody turns to look at the laughter from outside, and nodding in understanding. 

“Good match,” Teresa says. “Think they’ll date?”

“They better, bloody idiots if they don’t.”

“Are you just like, in British mode?”

“Sorta.”

“ _ Weird. _ ” she pauses before grinning slyly. “Innit?”

“I don’t sound like that!”

“You dooo,” she says, before giggling. He looks to Thomas for defense but thomas is laughing too.

“Tommy!”

“Yeah, Tommy!” Gally mocks. “Defend your lover.”

“My what?” Thoma asks, chucking a pillow at Gally. “Jealous. I told you, you’re the only one for me!”

“Stop!”

“Ooo there’s trouble in paradise!” Frypan sings and Newt laughs. 

“The stars no longer shine!” Newt continues.

“There’s trouble in paradise!”

Winston chimes in with  _ yeah yeah!  _ “Cuz she’s no longer mine!”

“I hate all of you,” Gally says and Teresa is laughing. 

“Gally, it’s okay to admit it,” Teresa says and Newt nods encouragingly. He can feel everyone giving him quick glances, as if to say it was okay for  _ him  _ to come out. 

“I’ll be back, I want to grab something from the room,” Newt says, and Thomas gets up to trail behind him, because that’s what he usually did. He followed Newt wherever it was that Newt went. The door clicks shut behind them and Newt is searching for something. 

“I have a locket that Sunny once bought me as a joke, it has Mary’s face on the inside.”

Thomas laughs, taking Newt by the waist and kissing his head. “You okay? That whole Alby thing seemed intense.”

“Wasn’t as intense as it felt…”

“You sure?”

“Yeah,” Newt promises, bending over to search the other drawer, wiggling against Thomas’ arms. “Let gooooo,” he whines, trying to push his arms off and Thomas does, watching Newt almost fall forward. 

“Ooops?”

“You never budge that easy- the one time!” He throws a small, metal trinket at him. 

“It’s the great duck of beyond,” Thomas says. “We got him from that museum when we were fifteen.”

“You were fourteen technically.”

“Hush.”

“Great duck stays in this box but where is- here she is!” He stands victorious before cutely waiting for great duck to be put back. There wasn’t much of a story behind the great duck, he was just the great duck. They got him at this museum because he was the last one and after they bought him the teachers took them out to a really nice dinner, not according to agenda. Great outcome, great duck from beyond. He was the Great Duck of Beyond. Small, metal, and special. They kept him in Newt’s box, because that’s where he lived, along with all the other special things Newt had. 

Thomas gently puts him back in the marble box before pulling Newt into a kiss, soft and tender. Newt melts, kissing back, arms in Thomas’ hold when the door pushes open. The two instantly jump apart. “Whats taking so long?”

“Thomas tried to steal the Great Duck.”

“What?” 

Newt shrugs. “You’ll never understand.”

“I could.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“Thomas did  _ what!”  _ Frypan yells and Thomas slowly jogs out of the room as frypan comes in, Newt holding the box. “What’s in there?”

“Great Duck.”

“And?”

“My Mary locket.”

“Ohhh my lord, Newt.”

“I know okay but Sunny bought it. You’ll love it.” 

“Well come on, let’s see what could possibly be so special it holds the same space as Mr. Duck.”

“Don’t be like that, Mary is special enough!”

“Mary?” Winston asks as they walk back into the room. Newt nods, pulling out the locket. Teresa tries to touch it but he snatches it back. 

“She’s sacred.”

“What’s inside?”

He opens to show Mary Crawley’s face.

“That’s true love.”

“Yeah,  _ true love _ , Man,” Frypan agrees.

They all just stare at her and the best thing that could happen in that moment did, Aris came home with a sheet cake from his baking internship. The Great Duck strikes again. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO i just wanna point out that Newt opening up is very important. It really leads to a bigger character development, especially with his sexuality. uhhh these next two chapters I'm anticipating are going to be a time skip to november and then another time skip to December. Don't forget to leave your thoughts in the comments, I will always always appreciate it and do my best to get back to you!   
> Also my tumblr: waldenbeckboys  
> my fan insta: waldenbeckboys (i don't really ever post tho oops)   
> I'll post a new chapter asap be easy on me plz I have a lot to do this week yikes


	16. Don't give up your destiny

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The month of november consists of Thomas winning Semi Finals then Winning the finals for track. Except something goes horribly wrong and Thomas is put in the hospital

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS IS ALMOST 20 PAGES MAKING IT MY LONGEST CHAPTER IN THE SERIES  
> alsO we got over 1000 views!!! That's so exciting! Thank you to everyone who is reading, this is a really long long chapter but it's full of a lot of good and exciting things and you'll like it. PLEASE leave a comment below! Thank you so much, another really long chapter coming up again next probably, I'm not sure if December is going to be all in one like this or split up?? We'll find out when I start writing tomorrow bc it's bed time my dudes. My chapter starter is really good tho i think   
> i really like the chapter starter i have in mind?? I think you will too

Chuck doesn't mean to walk in on this, he just wanted to ask Thomas a question. Though he was quiet coming in because Newts grown into napping during his lunch period since he's been spending nights in counsel hall and at work and doing homework. Now he was stuck stunned to the wood floor, hand still on the door, watching as Thomas is deeply kissed by Newt. He's not even entirely sure if the two can  _ breathe  _ because they're so close. He's seen people kiss, sure, but they're whole bodied and faces were smushed together and they hardly parted, tugging at each other, swaying towards the bed.,

It's not even that Thomas is kissing a boy that bothers him, so much as it is Thomas kissing  _ Newt _ because now Newt has all the glorious power. No wonder Thomas doesn't always side with him anymore. Thomas will say that Newts just looking out for him, being reasonable. He sounds like the dad trying to play nice guy while appeasing his wife, it all makes sense now really but God that's no fair! Thomas was his bestest friend in the whole wide world and now he has to share Thomas with Newt because they got to kiss. He doesn't see why someone like Newt (smart, beautiful, tough, kind) would even like Thomas (a true soft boy and kinda ugly if you ask Chuck). 

Except Chuck wants to sort of tear his eyes out of his brain when Newt places Thomas’ hand right on his rear. He makes this grossed out noise when Newt moans as Thomas just  _ squeezes _ there like its no problem. Though the moan cuts off into something Chuck can't really place. They both jump apart to look at Chuck who could easily be compared to an owl in daylight, bright eyed and confused and maybe a little sick.

“Chuck! What the hell?” Thomas yells.

“You stop siding with me because you've got the hots for Newt?? Dude! No fair!”

“What? Why are you in here?”

Newt seems wildly embarrassed and perhaps a bit upset, but he doesn't say a single thing. That terrifies chuck. The other day Alby walked in and Newt got so quiet the whole room got all tense. Newt could cut someone with his silence. “Im sorry, I'm sorry,” he insists, mostly towards Newt. “I won't tell. I promise!” 

Newt looks to Thomas, letting him speak because he doesn't think he can. “It's fine, it's whatever.”

“No I just had a question, I didn't mean it,” he says and Newt just kneels beside chuck, though Chuck is a bit taller now and he doesn't really need to.

“Please don't say anything okay? It's not your fault, you didn't do anything wrong… just please keep this between us.”

Chuck nods. “I don't get why you want to keep it a secret.”

“Some things are just… complicated. Okay? This is one of those things, where it twists your stomach even if you know other people support you. It's scary… to tell people these kind of things… for all sorts of reasons. Promise me this is our secret?”

“I'll never tell,” Chuck promises Newt, linking Pinkies with Newt when Newt holds out his pinky. 

“Thank you, Chuck.”

\---

The world unravels slowly in the way that it does. There's three things that can never remain hidden (according to Thomas’ brother) and that's the Sun, The Moon, and the Truth. The truth being the most important. See, the truth was that Newt and Thomas were in a serious relationship and sometimes it was hard to hide that from everybody that shares the same air and space as you. Everyone sort of already knew. Chuck, the other day, had caught them mid embrace. How long before the others do too? Just catch them holding hands, or Tommy slips and calls him  _ Sammy  _ because thats a thing they do now. 

Except that's not exactly how it happens. Its November 14th, the second to last race Thomas has before he's hurtled into finals and Newt is waiting on the grassy sidelines where Thomas is expected to end. He's been worried sick for days, stretching, resting, running laps, eating every right thing and drinking a lot of tea. Green tea specifically because it's like the ATP of beverages: energizes, metabolizes, and provides glucose based energy. He had always pulled the ranks, second, third, fourth, but he'd never hit first. Newt is there, waiting on Thomas and Minho, watching with his hands clasped to his chest, Frypan and Winston cheering them on between fragmented conversations. 

Then it happens. Thomas gets first place, against all the best runners in the semifinals  _ he made it in first _ and it's all the blood rushing to their heads. Thomas and Newt clasping hands as there's streamers and confetti and  _ Cameras _ and everyone is cheering for Thomas, and it's mindless when Thomas pulls Newt into a breathtaking kiss, Newts arm clasping around his neck. They didn't care that people were watching or cameras were there. They didn't care that the other runners were coming through. It didn't matter that it was cold and due to snow. Or that Tommy was a sweating mess. Nothing mattered. It was just them, there, in the midst of all the chaos and collection, and the cameras and shocked friends, and the cold. Much like a painting, time between them had stopped, the whole world frozen as they pressed foreheads. 

“You did it,” Newt says proud and Thomas nods, grinning. 

“I did it!” 

They're pulled from their bubble as his coach pushes water at him. And he's swept into interviews and college coaches offering grants and Newt is tinted pink and nervous. Winston rubs his arm reassuringly. “We can pretend we don't know.”

“I can't believe that just happened,” he says stupefied. 

“Do you want a cake?” Frypan offers.

“Do I get the batter?”

“Yeah we can make a mess cake.”

Mess Cakes were the therapeutic sugar everyone needs. Its raw batter with frosting and any other desired toppings- for Newt mess cakes were as much chocolate as humanly possible, all forms of chocolate. Mess cakes were good cakes always. 

“Rainbow colored,” Newt says. “Because I'm gay it makes sense.”

They nod and Newt is just watching Thomas. “They took pictures,” Winston says. 

Newt nods, before he's grinning. “Fucking asshole really did it.” 

They all kind of grin, because even if Newt was trying to dispel the situation he was smiling and that meant it was okay. His pride outshines his embarrassment. They all watch Thomas, beaming like a group of proud fathers. It really does take a village to make a man. (Brenda will later say it only takes existing to create a woman, they'll all nod and Newt will fight her with points he doesn't believe to be true to just to push her buttons. Thomas will have his arm around him, smiling softly. Newt will accidentally whack Thomas while gesturing and Thomas will kiss his knuckles as everyone laughs.) 

\---

Chuck holds up the paper the next day to Newt, his big head of curls popping up beside him as he sits with the Farina he'd made himself. He looks at it, Chuck turns to the  _ community center!  _ Page and the main headline is  _ Bisexual Star Athlete Celebrates Victory with Boyfriend. _

Newt feels his Farina turn to cement in his mouth. “It's a good picture, Thomas said he wanted to get a copy of some of the ones they took,” Chuck said. 

“He did?”

“Yeah said he wanted to frame them.”

Newt smiles softly to himself and takes another bite of his breakfast. Frypan stops to observe the picture with Alby behind him, conversation totally halting. “Shit man, that's a hot picture of you two.”

Alby just nods. “Thought you said you didn't like him…”

“Man these two are straight up puppy  _ love _ . Shoulda saw the way they looked at each other last night.”

“I smacked him by accident and he laughed, counts for something,” Newt says and Frypan nods.

“My mama always said you find someone you can be shit stupid but straight serious with you found the one.”

“Think he's the one.”

“He's His first boyfriend, you couldn't know,” Alby says. 

“Not my first. Think while you guys kissed girls at parties I was alone?”

Frypan laughs, pouring some Farina in a cup. “But did you date?”

“Went steady with a guy last August until January.”

“Really?” Alby says.

“Yeah. I mean he sucked a lot of the time but maybe I just want to believe that? I dunno he was good a lot of the time too. He met me fifty percent you know?” 

“Yeah I guess.” They all move on and Newt expects people to say things but nobody really mentions it, they just get kinda awkward before saying something to him or it seems they don't know at all. Newt has trouble computing this because he was so sure he'd get torn down. Or at least someone would say something. But then again who  _ really  _ read the paper anyways? He and Thomas hesitated, about hand holding in public and stuff. 

Newt isn't really sure if everything is okay between them, the doubt makes a home in his chest, settles between his lungs with the boa. So when he gets back to the dorm, ready to curl in on himself, he doesn’t expect to find that Thomas sitting on the floor with the pictures of them and trying to fit them into two frames. 

“Don’t you think they’re nice?”

“They are,” Newt says, glancing to how he redecorated their shared nightstand. A new, funky red lamp with a weird lampshade to match (it had all sorts of birds with their scientific names on it) and between where the two picture frames would go was a red pop out of the word  _ Viraag  _ and inside the word it details the definition. Newt reads it, silently.  _ Hindi for that feeling when you’re gone and I’m the only one in bed and I can’t see you, or reach out to you- the indescribable loneliness I feel when you’re more than a few feet away, when I can’t hold your hand, the one true thing that binds me is you and when you’re gone, viraag is the word to describe that I am in pain when you are not here.  _ “Did you make that in your creative woodshop class?”

“I did. I know how much you like weird words, and well, I took the day off and got the pictures and did some redecorating.”

Newt nods and kisses him. “We’re okay, right?”

“Why wouldn’t we be?” Thomas asks. 

“I don’t know… I just… I felt like maybe we weren’t okay.”

Thomas shakes his head, shrugging his shoulder. “Did I say something?”

“No.”

“Did something happen?”

“Not really…?”

“So why wouldn’t we be okay?” he concludes, gently, leaning forward a bit. “That’s your anxiety talking Sammy, everything is fine.” 

“Okay… Okay good.” he pauses. “Did you take the whole day off?”

“No? Just the first period and a half.”

He nods. “I thought I saw you but I wasn’t sure for a minute.”

“No it was definitely me.”

He leans over and kisses Newt gently. Newt smiles softly. He moves so he can be beside Thomas who holds up one of the pictures another paper used. Newt was holding his hands and they were beaming at each other. “This one is my favorite. The caption to the photo was  _ Boyfriend to Thomas is overrun by joy due to winning the first place at the competition.  _ I thought it was really nice. I’m keeping this one though. I’m putting it in that scrapbook I have.”

Newt nods. “Frypan said this picture was hot,” Newt teases, holding up the one of them kissing, used in the paper Chuck had shown him. 

“We are definitely hot.”

“You’re _ definitely _ ridiculous.” 

Thomas laughs and kisses him, the pain between the melts away, because they no longer have to be apart. 

\---

If people didn’t know at first, they definitely knew by the end of the week. The finals were next week, everybody had heard or seen the kiss. Apparently somebody had caught Thomas’ victory on video and it was circulating about the school social streams. Not that either of them minded, and it became more comfortable to hold hands in public, but they didn’t make any grand gestures, they weren’t blatantly obvious about it. There was this inherent fear that if they come off  _ too much  _ people will view them more negatively. If they stay within the means, the norm, the expectation, it’ll be okay. 

Things in the apartment though change, in a way that the doors are open more often, Thomas can find sanction in cuddling Newt on the couch, they don’t have to pretend around their friends who accept them with their stupidly big hearts, and overly empathetic brains. That’s how everybody should be though, it wasn’t a bad thing to be, big hearted and empathetic. They weren’t treated differently by any means. They were just allowed to breathe freely in their own space. 

\---

It was the night before the fall finals, Newt was rubbing Thomas arm, Thomas curled into himself. “Are you sure you don't want to make an emergency doctor appointment?” 

“It's just a stomach ache Sammy.”

“You're in a lot of pain, babe.”

“I'll be okay in the morning.”

“You're sure?”

He nods. “I'll just make some tea-”

“ _ I'll  _ make it. You just stay laying down.”

Newt leaves the room, grabbing a kettle. “Thomas nervous?” Frypan asks, working on a sketch for his AP art class. 

“I think he's sick,” Newt says, Minho pausing as he walks in.

“Who's sick?”

“Tommy.”

Minho nods. “He looked pale… might just be sore?” He offers. “He's been working out a  _ lot _ lately and I dunno, you lift 175 and your abs are gonna hurt like fucking hell man.”

“He raised a whole 75 pounds in two weeks?  _ Shit  _ no wonder he's in pain,” Frypan says. “Man, you're into the medical stuff, what do you think Newt?”

“I dunno… I just know he's in pain and he's pale. It's  _ nearing  _ flu season so it's reasonable if he perhaps caught it early.”

“You think he'll run okay?” Minho asks. “Should we get the nurse?”

“I think we should wait until the morning.”

They nod and Newt is up all night, just making sure Thomas is okay. Thomas barely sleeps too, he vividly remembers waking up vaguely hearing  _ Someone New  _ by Banks playing from Newts dangling headphone as Newt sings softly along, hand brushing his hair. A cold cloth is burning through his hot skin. His fingers feebly scratching Newts thigh in an attempt to reach for him. Newt mindlessly laces their fingers. “ _ I promise one day I'll come back to you, please don't fall in love with someone new.”  _ Thomas exhales and he doesn't remember falling back asleep but he does.

In the morning, Minho takes one look at him, puts his smoothie down and shakes his head. “You look like shit.”

“I'm fine.”

“You can't run.”

“I'm aiming for third. Second is a bonus. I'll be fine.”

“Tommy…” Newt says sympathetically, going to take his 2 morning pills. “Maybe you shouldn't.”

“I promise, worse case scenario is I end up puking. It's the last race of the fall. Doesn't even hurt that bad.”

So who are they to argue? They don't. Thomas goes to the locker room, they all spend Saturday at Windsor Academy Track. “Who's Windsor, you think?” Winston asks as they file into the bleachers.

“England is divided up into like.. counties I guess ruled over by Lords or Dukes or whatever. Windsor is one of those areas, I can't much imagine why they named it that though.”

“Do you know any Dukes?”

He shrugs. “Probably. It's all a rather discrete business now. We're all rich now. In 1930 maybe it'd matter if you were royal rich or society rich. Now I don't think people care so much. If you're bathing in cash, you're bathing in cash.”

“Huh.”

He nods, eyes scanning for Thomas. He doesn't see him until they line up for the mile race. The shot gun goes off and he watches Thomas, who starts middle pull further and further front. He keeps front even if he slows in a few places, but he keeps pushing. And Newt has to wonder if it's because he just wants to get it over with. Thomas has always loved to run, he had a passion for the thrill of the race but god, his poor baby felt so shit before they got there. 

And Thomas finishes first but he crosses the threshold and pukes right into the nearest trash can, 2 paramedics and the coach rushing over to his aid. Newt panics, pushing his way through the crowds on the bleachers and the sides, trying to get to his boyfriend. He doesn't  _ see  _ Thomas pass out but he knows it happens and he knows whatever is happening is serious because by the time he gets there they've decided he's going to the ER. Minho comes in second, and Newt would be ever so proud for moving up 2 places than his average, but they were both panicking. 

“What's wrong with him?” Newt asks, finding his voice. Nobody  _ really  _ answers him. They all just ignore him, Minho gripping onto Newt, panicked. “Coach? What's going on with him? Wait- please let me go with him.”

“Sorry you can't. Is there any family here?”

Newt and Minho instantly scan the crowd, his family often like to be noticed. “No,” they both say. Coach gently presses them back.

“We'll take him to the most advanced hospital in the area.”

“That's Canopy Medical.”

“Okay. I'll ride with him and contact his family. You meet us there,” the coach advises. “Minho you stay until they announce the awards. You're representing now. Got it?”

Minho nods, the other runners from other schools confused. Frypan clasps Newts shoulder, handing Newt his car keys. “Let's follow the ambulance.”

They get a police escort. Newt waits in the car a few minutes, the cop and Frypan console him as he just tries to breathe. “I need my phone,” Newt finally says, letting a few tears fall and wiping them furiously. Frypan nods, his own hands shaking. 

_ To Alby: Thomas is in the hospital, need you here. We're at Canopy Medical in Wayland. 35 to an hour from Gladesville. _

He puts his phone down. The white cop glances between the two. “You two will be okay? Don't drive emotionally. I don't want you boys getting hurt.”

They both nod. “We should go inside,” Frypan says. They do go inside, they're referred to a waiting room that's mostly empty. Emergency surgery, details cannot be disclosed.  _ Is he going to be okay?  _ **_We're not sure yet._ **

Newt and Frypan wait in the ICU waiting room, Newt sobbing into his arms against his thighs. He can feel Frypans silent tears against his back, because they were both just so scared, so afraid of losing Thomas. They weren't sure what happened and Newt thinks if he can just think clearly, he could piece together a potential diagnosis, a gauge on how serious this really was. 

Gally shows up next, he has this bewildered expression and sort of red eyes. “Is he okay?” He asks and Frypan wipes his eyes and looks to Newt, thumb rubbing the arch of his spine. 

“He'll be fine. Thomas is a stubborn soul.”

Gally nods, sitting by Newts legs, one hand hugging his calf. Newt texts Alby again. 

_ To Alby: please pick up _

_ To Alby: I really need you here rn  _

Being replaced is a process that often steps on itself. Things like this happen and the person you need most to fill the spaces isn't there. All 3 of his persons are currently not with him. Thomas is potentially dying, Minho is still at the track, Alby is unreachable. 

Minho gets there some time later, holding Thomas’ medal and varsity jacket. He sinks into the chair beside him, and Newt just hugs himself. It's very quiet. Brenda, Winston and Teresa filter in. They all sit quietly, there wasn't much to say. The silence was palpable. Newt thinks he could cut through it. 

_ To Alby: please pick up  _

_ To Alby: he's really hurt  _

_ To Alby: where are you? Why aren't you answering? _

Minho pries his phone from his shaking hands. “Let's go find coffee.”

Newt follows. He clutches Minho's hand in the place of his phone. He takes deep slow breaths. “I'm scared.”

“Have faith.”

Newt nods, his hands are shaking. “Alby won’t pick up.”

“He will”

“What if he doesn’t?”

Minho pauses, this sort of fire dances in his eyes. “He better.”

Newt nods. “I just… I feel like he should be here. He keeps saying he’s there for me and I needed him when it happened, he wasn’t at the track, I needed him when we got here, he wasn’t, I needed him 2 hours ago, I needed him an hour ago, I need him here now, because he’s always been there beside me and you. I  _ hate it _ that he’s not here.” And he falls into Minho’s chest crying and Minho feels so filled with anger, he thinks that a serpent has replaced his loving heart. The anger twists and contorts into something ugly., something vile. He wants to hurt Alby for making Newt so broken, he wants to hurt Alby for not being here when Thomas was hurt. Minho saw Thomas as his baby brother, and Alby was supposed to be here.  _ Alby should be here _ . 

They return with coffee cups and nobody has returned with information. Newt just sips his coffee and waits. Eventually he puts the cup down and slips Thomas’ jacket on, just wearing it as he drinks his coffee. Minho can’t help but replay the whole afternoon in his head.  _ Are you sure you want to run?  _ It was 11.55 that’s when he asked. Thomas insisted he was fine, even as he winced at the pain. Minho wanted to say something but Thomas insisted. To everybody under the sun, Thomas said he was fine. 12.25 is when he went down, an exact 30 minutes later, and Minho just remembers watching him fall and watching them take him, and feeling like he wasn’t fast enough, fast enough to save Thomas. 

It’s almost 6.30 PM when they finally are confronted by a nurse. “Your friend is okay, we’ve stabilized him. He had to have an appendix removed and he has family coming in tomorrow.”

“Did it rupture?” Newt asks instantly. 

“It did.”

He nods. “Just wanted to know, thank you.”

“He’s sleeping now…”

“Can I please go see him anyways? I don’t want him to be alone.”

“I can’t let you all in-”

“Just him,” Minho cuts in. “Let Newt go see him, we’ll stay here.”

She nods slowly and decides that Newt can go in. He hates the smell of hospitals, it reminds him of his own serious visit a few years ago. The tiles aren’t much different in each hospital, waxy, shiny, easy to glide on. They make it to his room and Newt etches the number in his brain. Room 314, in ICU with a little braille sign below it. The room is disgustingly lit in this weird, surreal blue, and the only person there is Thomas with tubes in his arms. He feels so very distant from Thomas and yet so very close. He just wants to touch him. Hold his hand. Newt settles at the edge of the bed and the nurse watches him. 

“I’m guessing you two are like best friends?”

“Boyfriends,” Newt says with confidence. 

She nods. “He’ll be okay.”

“He’s awfully stubborn like that. Stupid sometimes because of it, but stubborn. He wouldn’t let himself die.”

She laughs, ironically enough. “Good to hear. You want anything? One of your friends to come in?”

“Not yet… not now. I just… I dunno, I’ll feel better just knowing he’s breathing.”

“Okay,” she agrees sympathetically and leaves the room. Newt hadn’t taken his phone, he just watches Thomas with soft sad eyes.  _ Viraag  _ is the word for when you are without the person you love and you can’t quite reach them, he feels this unmeasurable relief at just being beside Thomas and being able to feel him breathe, see how his lips are slightly parted, how his heart monitor beats steady and slow. It’s strange to Newt that being so far apart from Thomas could hurt, and yet just sitting here next to him, the anxiety eases just a little. He kisses Thomas head and holds his hand, which Newt is thankful is warm, over chillingly cold. He doesn’t want to think of how different this very situation could be, but his brain does anyways.  _ He could be dead  _ and places a the image of a potentially cold and dead Thomas in his brain. Newt shakes his head. He’s not dead, Thomas is warm and his lips are flush with blood and his chest rises with each breath and the heart monitor beats slow and steady. He’s okay. Thomas is okay. 

It’s about 7.30 when Thomas is awake and functioning to some extent, Newt presses a kiss to his temple. “You’re a real idiot.”

“I’m sorry… I should’ve listened.”

“You’re okay?”

“I don’t know, what did the nurse say?”

“She said you were stable.”

“Then I guess I’m okay. I feel like shit, but I’m okay.”

“You scared all of us. Made Gally cry.”

Thomas shakes his head slightly. “Love of my life,” he whispers raspily and Newt laughs. 

“Truly, he is the one for you. You two are such a great pair.”

A knock is at the door and they look up. It’s Minho. “I was let in, I just wanted to see you,” He says unsure and small. Thomas offers his hand, wincing at the feeling of the IV in his arm. Last time this happened, Newt was there, his eyes didn’t open for days, he was unsteady and unsure, and when he woke up he panicked a lot. Minho learned how to handle his panic attacks in that hospital, before they sent him to the mental institution. 

“I’m okay, Minho,” Thomas says. He doesn’t understand, he doesn’t know what happened. 

“He’s okay,” Newt repeats, mostly to ground Minho to reality, and they meet eyes and there’s a sort of relief there. Thomas doesn’t understand but he just watches the two. He figures Minho has experienced something that Newt knows and he doesn’t. No big deal. 

“You’re stupid as fuck,” Minho says. 

He hands Newt his phone. Newt puts it on the countertop. He doesn’t want to look at it, though he raises a brow in question and Minho shakes his head slightly. 

“What?” Thomas asks, looking between them. 

“Nothing,” Newt assures. “Everybody is outside waiting for you, we thought maybe Sunny would call but she hasn’t had the time yet.”

“Oh she’s so busy, don’t worry her with me being hurt.”

See, the funny thing is, Sunny did call, while Newt was in here with Thomas alone. She called and she cried and she begged to know he was okay. Minho had assured her everything would be fine and Thomas would be alright in no time. 

“She’d be so upset if she found out and we hadn’t told her, I had to,” Newt says and they lace hands. Newt kisses Thomas’ knuckles and rests his head on his thigh. 

“Does anything hurt?” Minho asks.

“No, not really.” 

He nods and Newt kisses his thigh. “I’m happy you’re okay,” Minho says. “I was so scared.”

“I’m sorry… I should’ve been careful.”

“Your family is coming tomorrow.”

“What family?”

“They wouldn’t tell us.” 

“Great.”

They nod sympathetically and the nurse comes in moments later. “Visiting hours are over, and since you aren’t family, sadly, I’ll have to ask you to leave the room.”

Thomas looks nervous. “Can they stay? Just the two…? I don’t want to be alone.”

She hesitates and Newt squeezes his hand. “Only one of you.”

“We can alternate,” Minho says. “We can stay in the waiting room right?”

“Of course, we can’t stop you.” 

They both nod. “I’ll go and check on everybody else,” Newt says. 

Thomas and Minho nods, Newt leaving the room and walking out to the waiting room, almost bumping to Alby. He stops. “What are you doing here?”

“I saw your-”

“It’s been six hours? Where were you?” Newt asks, voice raising a bit. 

“I’m sorry I was-”

“You were what? Whatever you have to say better be really fucking good because we all thought Thomas was dying, and he could have because his appendix exploded- you know? Inside his body? Which is super dangerous! And he was in surgery for the longest time and we didn’t know what the fuck was happening so I would really like to know why everybody under the face of the sun and then some has managed to get here before you and why it was so difficult for you to text back?”

“I.. I don’t have a good enough excuse for  _ you _ -”

“For me? For- Oh m y god are you dense? Is something wrong with you?” 

“Excuse me?”

“He was in surgery, he collapsed out of nowhere! We were all in tears, mortified. What if he was dead right now, would your excuse still not be good enough for  _ me  _ Alby?”

“He’s not dead.”

“No but he could be,” Newt says outright and Aris, of all the people to cut in, comes over and touches Newt’s arm and he doesn’t know what exactly comes over him but he snaps instantly. “If you touch me again I will rip your heart from your chest and feed it to the wolves.”

“W-wha- I… sorry,” Aris says and Newt realizes how absolutely intensely he had jumped at Aris who, okay, Newt has never  _ liked  _ Aris necessarily but he had no reason to jump down the Sophomores throat like that. He really didn’t. But the kid leaves and huddles in a corner as Frypan and Winston stand to his defense.

“Man this is messed up, what’s going on with you?” Frypan cuts in, Brenda coming over and lacing hands with Newt to try and calm him down. 

“Nothing is going on with me,” Alby says. “How was I supposed to know?”

“How many times did I text you?” Newt asks. 

“And me, and Winston,” Frypan adds. “And Minho.”

“Minho’s going to kill you, you’re so lucky I was the one who walked out of that room,” Newt says. He knows the second he fell into Minho’s arms, how Minho’s heartbeat raised just slightly, Alby was a goner. If Newt was the one who kept them together, who kept the band united, Minho was the Rooster of the flock, willing to fight for his friends, willing to defend and protect any of those who got hurt or upset. Newt thinks that Minho has too many emotions bottled up inside, and that if he saw Alby, the whole day would pour into him. He’s a dead man walking. 

“I’m sorry, I was busy-”

“With what man?” Frypan asks again, disappointment on his face. 

“Maybe I should just go.”

“No,” Newt says instantly, sternly. “You stay here and to my face tell me why my texts weren’t important enough to look at to you. What happened to always being there for me? Why couldn’t you be here? I want a reason, Alby. What was it that was keeping you? Where were you?”

“We just went to some woods, for a party man. It was no big deal, just no service.”

“A party in the middle of the day?”

“It was chill, it wasn’t any big deal.”

Newt shakes his head. “You’re a liar. You just didn’t want to leave your new friends.”

“That’s not true.”

“So the whole day, driving there and all that, you had no signal? You all decided to go off the grid? Or did you just decide to ignore me?”

“Why don’t you believe me?”

“Because I almost lost one of my best friends. And if I was called and told you were in his place, I would be here. I would be here in a second and god help any of the people standing here right now who didn’t show. But we are suddenly unimportant, irrelevant and out of context in your life, so I suppose we wouldn’t have to stand there at all.”

“You’re just upset.”

“You’re bloody right I’m upset. I needed you, and you weren’t here. So you’re a liar, okay? You’re a liar. Who couldn’t bother to make it here to help me, or to support Thomas. I’ll tell him tomorrow you passed by too late and had other plans.”

“Newt, I’m here now-” Alby tries and even Brenda shoots him a look. Newt is near tears, he huffs out a sort of laugh, and he has this angry smile on his face. 

“Yeah you are and to what use is that? He’s fine now. I don’t need you right now. I needed you six hours ago but your new friends are more important.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You’re not,” Winston says after a beat of silence. “You’re not sorry. If you were sorry, you would’ve been here.”

Newt has a wall of people at his defense and Alby realizes, now, that he doesn’t have anybody. And what Newt said held truth, he had noticed Newt texted him but he never read them. His shame was what he did with his new friends, but those guys, those girls, they weren’t real friends. His best friend in the whole wide world had eyes that burned a raging fire, that shot the venom of a Cobra into his veins. He had crossed into the territory in which no man ever returns, and he doesn’t think he can fix this anymore. He doesn’t think he can ever have Newt back. 

“I’m so sorry,” He says to Newt and Newt seems to swallow. He blinks back the tears. He plays with the sleeves of Thomas’ varsity jacket.  _ Autenberg  _ is plastered on the back, it was his mother’s maiden name and he’d taken it up after he left. 

“I don’t have the heart to forgive you right now… I don’t know if I ever will, but I love Thomas with all my heart, and he could have died. I don’t know the likelihood, or the prospects. But he could have. Everybody else was here in a heartbeat, his family on the other coast will be here before morning. You were thirty minutes away, and you couldn’t- how do you _ expect me _ to forgive you?” 

The anger has dissipated and it was replaced with a bludgeoning sorrow, the ravens mourning call from the nest. “I don’t, but I am sorry.”

“Go or you’ll find another thing to be sorry for,” Minho says coming in from the Thomas’ room. “Go now.”

Newt turns and he rushes off to where Thomas is. 

\--- 

It was when Thomas was moved to a general room that more than one of his friends could be in at a time, that Winston handed over the medal he had one, alongside a big card and flowers from the kids at school. “You won the whole track meet for us.”

He grins and Newt smiles softly. “I’m so proud of us… I don’t think I can run winter though.”

“You would be the biggest idiot I know,” Minho says and Newt rubs his arm.

“You really shouldn’t be much of anything, considering you can hardly walk right now, Tommy.”

Thomas nods and they squeeze hands. “Makes me sad.”

“You’ll be okay. There’s always spring,” Winston says. 

“Always spring,” Thomas agrees. 

\---

Recovery was a long and hard process. Especially when you now lived in the world of Kasia Autenberg, the most magical and fearless woman in the whole wide world. Alby had moved out of the suite, and nobody mentioned it, Kasia and Thomas’ Great Uncle were to very exuberant characters. They were of the best kind of people. The most exciting, exhilarating and in terms of kasia, terrifying people. 

“You will  _ not _ be putting that much spice into his food, he nearly died,” Kasia exclaims when she walks in. “And what is all this clitter clatter? Oh nobody likes Trinkets  _ this _ much.” She was in a way like Mary Poppins, the Nanny who came in to save the children or something. 

Bram Nabrowski, Thomas’ great uncle, was a whole different story and perhaps the most iconic gay man that Newt has ever met. He is always dressed royally, both of them were, with nice button ups and these great dress pants and the socks you would probably expect from such a refined looking business man, but his personality simply didn’t match up. He was like a magician, who pulled all sorts of tricks from his hats, he told all the stories that made Thomas laugh and all the ones that made him fall asleep. They read long boring books out loud to each other and made ridiculous jokes in Polish. 

Nana was a stern woman, with her long silver hair always in a bun, her soft beautiful face only ever tilted in the mocking jest of a smile. Though every now and again, you could catch her softening at her grandson and kissing his head. She pushed him though, to perhaps do more than he was even capable of. She was rich with banter, knew just about everything there was to know. There wasn’t much you could get past her, and she was a great cook, on most occasions. 

The two transformed the suite every moment they spent there. They often spent the nights in a hotel, after Thomas was sleeping. “He reminds me of Mieczyslaw,” Kasia says one night, and the kids raise their brows. “His grandfather, he died the night he and his brother were born… a nasty accident it was,” she says sadly. “Since Stiles came out first, we named Stiles after him, that was Claudia’s wish, that one of her boys were named after her father.”

“Please don’t tell them the story of who I was named after.”

She laughs. “That was to spite your father.”

“Is everything you guys do to spite this poor man?” Minho asks and Bram laughs. 

“Just about all of it, yeah? Noah is an easy target,” Bram informs. “Stiles wanted to come but we can’t have him missing school.”

“He has been… off center lately. I blame that boy he’s always with,” Kasia says. 

“Who Scott?” Thomas asks. “Scott’s just… going through things, that’s what he told me. He just wants to help, you know how he goes all braveheart sometimes.”

“Your twin?”

“Yeah he’s absolutely wild. Total opposite of me.”

“He truly is, Stiles is…” Kasia taking a long in take of air and sighs, squinting and Bram shrugs. 

“He’s his own person and we love him for who he is,” Bram says and Thomas laughs.

“I love him for who he is, I didn’t share a womb with him for nothing,” He says pretending to be lovey dovey. 

“Oh don’t be nostalgic.”

“About the womb? It was the best part of my whole existence so far.”

“Hey!” Newt says. 

“You too babe but like… the womb was a good life. No stress or responsibilities or like learning to be a human being… like it was good. You just like… you chilled. You existed.”

Everyone finds this funny. “No erupting body parts,” Bram adds and they both nod in agreement. 

“Alright that’s enough excitement for you, off to bed you go,” Kasia says, patting his knee. 

“Are you sure?”

“Positive, I’m leaving in a couple days because Lord knows your Uncle Byron can’t take care of that place without us.”

Thomas nods. “And then it’s thanksgiving soon!”

“It is,” Bram agrees. “You’ll bring the charming boyfriend, won’t you? British people don’t have thanksgiving.”

“No they don’t so yes I will.”

“Do I get a say?” Newt asks and Thomas shakes his head, frowning a bit. 

“No.. you don’t.” 

It’s only been a few days since Thomas left the hospital, and he was just starting to walk again. He didn’t eat much and he was only allowed to walk between rooms. Since his appendix had ruptured, they had kept him in the hospital for quite the while. His doctor has decided he would not be allowed to do Winter track until he was fully recovered. Thomas felt that this was unfair, but when he could hardly walk, he succumbed to his fate. 

“It’s just a few months that you’re missing,” Newt had assured at the time and Thomas leaned heavy with grief against him. At first they had put a drain near the incision but it has since been removed. Now, a couple weeks later, Thomas was reintegrating himself at home. He could hardly do a thing. The pain was brutal, they could tell. Bram has taken over his home instruction with Kasia, until he was better. In a few days, it was decided that Newt and Minho would carry his things. 

Slowly things were getting better. 

\---

They did this thing every year called the scarehouse of november, it was meant to be a random day before Thanksgiving break that somebody would build a haunted house of some sort and attempt to scare a person of their choosing. Newt did not expect to be this years victim. See, he usually never was, and since he saw no point in Halloween, he hardly took any part of the activities that came during October or in this case after. See they did it in November because part of the fun was nobody knew when it was coming, since it was after the fact. There was no real countdown or mark off days or loopholes. 

And since Thomas was the one to build it this year, he created the ideas, and Minho and Frypan helped him execute. The victim, to his luck, was Newt. See Newt was hard to scare, because most of the scary stuff was in Newt’s head. But he thinks he can do it.

They convince the janitors to fess up a closet and Thomas is able to create a horror house scene. Well, he creates the idea, Minho and Frypan have to piece everything together because Thomas isn’t allowed to lift anything. So he’s really mostly useless. At least he feels useless. 

Anyways, they put together this horror house of incubators and bodies hanging from the rafters and he creates a poster of eyes that glow, both a  _ 1984 _ and  _ Great Gatsby _ reference. The eyes follow you. He had a tape recorder of rat sounds, and somebody had agreed to lend their small dog to run around and add to the scare factor. They put Cameras about to catch his reaction. This was everybody's favorite part, rewatching the whole thing. 

So of course, Newt doesn’t suspect, on the awfully nice november day before they were due to leave for Thanksgiving, when Thomas comes up to him, Teresa by his side. He kisses Newt’s cheek hello and Newt looks up at him with beaming pride. 

“Hey babe. You okay?”

“Yeah,” he says sitting down. “I have to show you something.”

“You do?” 

“Yeah you’re not even going to believe.” He gestures with his head and Newt narrows his eyes at him but nods. 

“Okay, Tommy,” he says taking his hand and following him back into the school. “Where are we going?” he whispers, as he and Thomas go down an unfamiliar hall in the back of the school. 

“It’s crazy, I found something totally wicked. You wouldn’t believe what Jansen is hiding,” Thomas whispers and Newt raises a brow. 

“Really?”

“Yeah. Really. It’s the most insane thing.” 

“Oh sure,” he says not believing.

“Really, it’s culty. I think he’s a devil worshipper.”

“Is he now?”

“You have to see it, but promise it’s our secret,” Thomas whispers sort of lewd as they shut the two metal doors that separate them and the hall of the closet. Newt raises a brow and they meet in a kiss. Newt is suddenly sure this is going a much dirtier route than he anticipated. But Thomas pulls away and tugs his hand, moving to the door. “Promise you won’t ever share what I’m about to show you ever?”

“Baby I’m considered.”

“Promise?”

“I promise?”

“Good.” thomas opens the door but not the lights, Newt grips his hand and follows him down the stairs to the basement. He can vaguely see the eyes following them but he doesn’t seem phased. He’s just looking around when he suddenly bumps into a dense mass, something that felt a lot like a body and yelps jumping and opening his phone only to drop it when he sees the fake zombie body and stammering backwards. 

He can’t help but curse, but his surprise is so sudden that he starts laughing after a minute and soon the lights turn on because he can’t stop laughing. Thomas is confused, of course and Newt just looks around and laughs harder. “That’s so stupid, I thought it was real for a second but it’s plastic!” 

“You are seriously no fun sometimes.”   
\---

Newt is stunned by the grandiosity of the Autenberg household. It is absolutely stunning inside and out. Even the bed he shared with Thomas was the most comfortable thing he could remember sleeping on in two years. But see, the thing was, Thomas doesn’t sleep very well anymore. So Newt holds him, head to his chest and reads him the book he was currently reading. Thomas listens and he slowly falls asleep.

The next day is Thanksgiving and its a truly wild experience from Start to finish. Thomas’ whole family was new, interesting characters. Though he did not have the luxury to meet his brother, he did in fact meet all his cousins and his grand church friends. There was more food than he’d ever seen, half of it polish, and half of it American. He also met this sweet adorable baby, mostly because somebody just kept giving the child to him because he just seemed to be good at making him laugh. 

Thomas was in love with the whole thing. He’d never brought anybody home before but they all just accepted Newt as one of their own. He fit in with the quirky bunch, even if his hands twitched with anxiety or didn’t know what to say sometimes. He discovers Kasia had remarried to a man named Joel, and he also discovers that Joel is much nicer than Kasia herself. Kasia though, is not cruel, she’s hard around the edges. 

He helps Kasia clean up as she forces Thomas to rest, and they end up sitting over coffee together. 

“Thomas says you like going to church. What religion do you follow?”

“Well… I don’t really follow any set religion.”

“You don’t?”

“No not really,” Newt admits.

“Then what’s the point of going to church?”

“I believe in God, I don’t… I didn’t grow up in a religious household so to me, God is God no matter what form or set of rules he takes up. It’s… It gives me a lot of hope that maybe somebody somewhere is looking out for me at all times.”

“Why would you need that?” she queries, but there’s a motherly tone behind it.

“I uh… I was diagnosed with depression a few months before I met Thomas, and they think I’ll grow out of it, which is good, but I really struggle, and… a lot of the time you just feel alone. I think when you believe in God, you feel much less alone.” 

Kasia watches him for a moment over the rim of her mug, her mesmerizing blue eyes follow him with care. She finally puts the mug down and takes his hand. “You are not alone… When I lost my husband, I never thought I’d be well again. And when I lost Thomas’ mother, I thought I could never suffer through such pain. That I had nothing left in life, but then I looked at my other children and how much they were going through too, how we all suffered these losses together- I thought, who am I? But I couldn’t help it. You just… you feel like you can’t. That it’s obsolete. Your existence is… obsolete.” 

He nods. “It feels that way a lot of the time.”

“Don’t… pressure yourself,” she finally says. “You are worth something.”

“I hope so…”

“What do you want to do in life?”

“To be a children's surgeon.”

“And so if you leave us, what will they do? The world needs you and your brilliance.”

“Does that help you? Knowing the world needs you?”

“Serving your greater purpose… sometimes just pushes you along.”

He understands that this woman, who was not raised to encourage mental illness, was trying her best to voice what she wants without making his emotions invalid, by voicing her own experience. “I think I am needed here, so I stay,” she says. “But pain does come and go still for me. It leaves a stain and that’s okay.”

“I suppose. I know I’m not alone but.. I dunno. It’s complicated.”

“The mind often is,” Kasia agrees.

They sit in silence for a while and Kasia and him take a sip in unison. “Thomas helps,” Newt says after a while. “I dunno… he just… his presence, it helps.”

She nods. “I know what you mean. Joel helps.”

“He seems nice.”

She laughs. “He’s quite nice. And Bram… oh darling Bram… he is my best friend. I don’t know what I would do without him. I told him that I demand to go first, he has no options.” 

He laughs. “My best friend said the same thing.”

“Did he?”

Newt nods, and he gets this sad smile. “I had… a really bad night. He had saved me the first time I attempted suicide. It was the only time but… I probably would’ve died if it weren’t for him. Thomas would have met a totally different group of kids that year… They say that I tend to be like glue, I keep the family together.”

She smiles. “You are. You held Thomas up the whole time in the hospital. It was mostly you not us. You know what to say, what to do.”

Newt smiles softly. “He means a lot to me.”

She nods. “Don’t give up what is destiny.”

“I won’t give him up.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WHOO! that was a lot right?? I think Nana is sort of like a mom figure to Newt and YEAH LOOK AT THAT STILES IS THOMAS' TWIN STUFF I JUST THREW IN THERE AND IT'S NOT LAZY BECAUSE IT TOOK ME 5 YEAR TO DEVELOP A FAMILY FOR STILES AND I SWEAR KASIA AND BRAM HAVE REALLY LONG BACK STORIES AND WELL THOUGHT OUT CHARACTERS THEY ARE AMONGST MY BEST OC'S don't forget to comment!   
> DON'T KNOW WHAT TO COMMENT?   
> 1\. did you like the new characters?  
> 2\. what was your favorite part?  
> 3\. what part evoked the most emotion for you?  
> 4\. was there anything you would change or want improved?  
> 5\. What's your favorite relationship in the story so far?   
> 6\. questions you might have? idk?  
> MY TUMBLR: waldenbeckboys


	17. December begins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some small pieces and interactions throughout the month of December - CHRISTMAS IS NOT INCLUDED IN THIS CHAPTER

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was really hard to write because it has important bits of information but where the core of it really lies is Christmas and I decided Christmas is going to be NEXT CHAPTER which will have more Thomas centric scenes and also some really nice Newt scenes! I'm sorry if this chapter in particular was crummy, i'm not the most proud of it honestly but I have faith in next chapter once I get the energy to write it  
> Sorry this took so long!! I am so absolutely exhausted guys I'm so sorry I just want to sleep for the next 5 days ohmygosh but life goes on we do what we have to do right??

Its December 7th, 9.02 PM when Newt comes home, much happier than he usually is. Winston and Frypan are at the Island, Gally is watching  _ Survivor  _ and Thomas is on the floor with 3 different books. 

“So you know how everyone has a thing for their eighteenth birthday? Like a special, impactful meaningful thing? It’s big and is all about adulthood or whatever? Well I've decided on my thing.”

“What's that?” Winston asks, Minho peeking out from his room at Newts voice. 

“What's happening?”

“He has an 18th birthday thing,” Frypan informs. 

“I want a tattoo.”

“Your mom would kill you,” Minho says.

“She wouldn't have to know.” 

“She wouldn't?” 

“Well I guess she'd see it eventually but I don't think she can do much about it once I've gotten it.” 

Thomas looks up. “What kind of Tattoo?”

“I’m thinking like the moon or the sun or something… something astrological you know? From space.”

“Artsy,” he says, sitting up and Newt ruffles Thomas’ hair and Thomas grins. “Suits you I think. Something artsy like that.”

“Me too… I don’t want it to be big or anything, just a small something.”

“Like a stick and poke?” Minho asks. 

“Yeah, kind of? In that simplistic kinda style but from a regular parlor?”

“Makes sense.” 

Newt nods, adjusting his bag. “That’s my thing,” he confirms as he goes off to his room and he goes to put away a couple pictures he’d printed, in a box that was buried in the bottom of his drawer, except down there was a tin that was labeled  _ All the reasons I hate you  _ and he pushes the box away, then grabs his picture box and puts the new pictures of the city that he took in there. They weren’t good necessarily, he just liked them. He caps the box and he looks at the tin box he’d pushed a way and considers it for a moment when the door is pushed open and Thomas walks in. He shuts the drawer immediately. 

“I printed some picture ideas, wanna see?” Newt says, though he’s less excited from before, sobered for a minute.

“Sure. You okay, you sound-”

“It’s nothing.” 

Thomas nods. Newt pulls out the little inspiration photos he’d printed out and Thomas looks over them, picking up one of a moon with a star hanging between it. It was decorative and it seemed to sparkle in this weird metaphoric way, because the tattoo itself didn’t actually sparkle, it’s just that the image presented itself in a way that you might think it does. Really it doesn’t but you think it does. Thomas looks at it, for a very long moment, he just looks at it. 

“I like this one, but smaller.”

“Yeah?”

He nods. “It suits you.”

Newt kisses his cheek. “Did you make it through math?”

“I almost  _ died _ .”

“Oh God.” Newt laughs.

“I did!”

“You did not.”

“I think I'll be good to run by January.”

“You're crazy.”

“I'm  _ bored _ . I dedicate my whole life to this sport and I can't even run anymore.”

“It's temporary… besides you need sleep before you need a new track suit.”

“I'll be okay Sammy.”

“You will but we need to work our way there.”

“You can't give up either.” 

“I won't. Not ever. Not on you.”

“Or yourself.”

“It's harder to fight for myself most of the time.”

Thomas couldn't understand fully the turmoil in Newts head, the rushing waters that drowned the good noises with its own white noise. The deepest, darkest fears were the ones you begin to feel without it being prominent anymore. You're working on homework, mess up a problem and then think  _ I'm not doing enough  _ so you change strategy and work harder.  _ Why would you say that? That wasn't right _ . The strange, clenching feeling in your stomach that came out of nowhere, everything you say is wrong and scrutinized.

“Then I'll fight for you.”

“I… thank you Tommy,” he whispers. He wants to say he's not worth fighting for but he doesn't. Newt just kisses him sound and softly. 

“I’m gonna be a runner, nobody is going to stop me.”

“Olympic gold baby.” 

They grin, falling into each other, deep, loving, sloppy kisses between bright bright smiles. 

\---

It’s eating away at Newt, the tin he means. It’s the following evening that he takes them out, while Thomas is in the shower and the first thing inside is a picture of him and Nate on a bridge, with the few of his friends who knew about them dating, and they were kissing, fireworks in the background. Newt had a hand raised, he remembers feeling the river salted winds pass over him, he remembers feeling absolutely free that night in mid september, totally happy. He can still feel how breathless he was kissing Nate, like it’d last forever. The tears pool in his eyes, and he flips it over and reads the message he left on the back.  _ I hate that I thought I could love you.  _ He’d never really coped with the heartbreak that came with Nate, he just pushed it down and aside and never let himself think. If he unblocks Nate’s number he might be flooded with messages. He doesn’t unblock his number. 

He puts the picture back and he takes his tin of pictures out. He caps the other tin and buries under the papers and boxes and trinkets in the drawer. He doesn’t want to think about it anymore. He takes his purple sharpie and behind a picture he took of Tommy writes on it: _I’ll never be sorry I fell in love with you. You are Yuanfen - a love that was_ ** _destiny._** He just stares at the picture, Thomas smiling, the sun against his perfect skin, glistening against his whiskey eyes. Newt was love drunk and he doesn’t think he could ever feel this way with anybody else. He wants Thomas to be the only one, he’s set. He’s set that Thomas will be. 

He leaves it under Thomas’ pillow for him to find, and Thomas does find it after Newt is long asleep in his bed, curled up against the wall. He finds the picture peeking out from the shifted pillow and looks at the back and smiles softly. “Yuanfen,” he whispers softly, though he doesn’t think he says it right. He kisses Newt’s head and Newt shifts, his body looking for Thomas’ even in his sleep, he latches onto the pillow instead and hugs it. Thomas laughs, heart warm with a feeling he can’t describe. He removes the pillow and replaces it with his own body, he kisses Newt’s chest, over his steady beating heart and allows himself to lay there, with the illusion he might finally fall asleep without being plagued with nightmares of exploding appendixes and cruel doctors with bloody knives that cut too deep. 

\--

Thomas was bored, because all he had now was classes and that one other club he did that never even met to begin with. So he walks over to the bookshop with a pastry for good luck. He walks in and Newt is sipping on his coffee as a 20ish year old guy talks to him about some book. He thinks Newt looks like he would rather be anywhere else, but the guy would never know that. 

Newt’s eye catches Tommy and he lights up, there’s a sparkle there but he just nods at what the guy says and tries to speed up the process. The guy leaves and Thomas puts the container down on the counter, Newt pulling Thomas forward to kiss him. “What do I owe your lovely presence to?”

“I have nobody to talk to. Chuck and Minho are at the track conditioning.”

Newt laughs. “Sorry, you just have to deal babe.”

“Hey, I get to spend more time with you and that’s always a plus.”

“It better be,” Newt says and Thomas kisses him quick and soft. Newt glances behind him around the store. “Sit on the counter, get comfortable,” he offers. “I don’t think anybody is here.”

“What are you doing?”

“Homework, honestly.”

“The walls came out really good.”

“Yeah, they did,” Newt says. 

Newt offers him a sip of coffee and Thomas takes it, Newt leaning close to his beautiful boyfriend. Their foreheads almost touch, and Newt’s smiling softly. “What?” Thomas asks.

“You just never visit so this is nice.”

Thomas softens and kisses him. “You’re a book nerd, I’m going to regret this.”

“You probably are,” Newt teases. “Beecaaauuuse I did start reading this book-”

“Aaaand here we go,” Thomas jokes, though he’s grinning as Newt picks up the book. 

“No no  _ listen _ -

“You have my full attention!”

“Listen!” 

“Listening!”

“It’s soooooo good!”

Thomas laughs and Newt opens up to his first little sticky note marker. God he’s so in love it’s ridiculous. 

\---

Rob notices the two are always together, and Thomas does good work but he also makes Newt happy. The whole room lights up with Newt’s brightness when Thomas walks in. Rob thinks it’s nice to finally see the kid smile sometimes. Even if some nights his boyfriend walks in and Newt just slumps against him, a sad little pout on his face. It was still nice. Because at least Newt had somebody. 

\---

“Your move,” Brenda says, tapping her finger on the game board. They were playing Candyland, because she was bored and Jorge wasn’t home. 

“I’m thinking.”

“It’s candyland.”

“It’s about winning.”

“Oh my god.”

“You know it’s true!” 

“Fine,” She relucts. 

She bites her lip before taking her piece and knocking his over, then putting it at the end. “I win! Time for Uno.”

“You’re bloody terrible!” He says laughing and she kisses his nose.

“I am but look I’ve got cards and cards are more fun.”

“Fine, we’ll play Uno.”

They grin, the game was on and it was about to get heated. 

\---

The Rack Stand Book Buy was a 4 hour fundraiser, in which they got as many people to buy as many possible books in 4 hours, it included several activities. There was a cakewalk, a read-a-thon, a coffee enthusiast seminar (which usually the parents adored) and there was a guest speaker panel. Newt was rigorously working on getting the book donations in, it was Donation Saturday, he and Minho working the stamping stand, while Aris organized the books, Frypan, Winston, and a few other people worked into organizing and checking the books that people gave. Often the entirety of Gladesville would come in and donate the books they could no longer keep or handle. One man had over 5000 books and every year he would donate a box of 79 books. Always 79, no more, no less. That was Mr. Writfore. 

Then there was Old Darling Delilah, the name given for one of the Vietnam protesters who stayed in the town. She did most of the cake walk baking. She was a free flowing kind of woman, always in bright clothes, faux fur, hair in braids, flower crowns. If 1968 were a person, it was Old Darling Delilah. Some say there’s a Beatles song named after her. 

Rob brings a whole shipment worth of new books and used records. He gives up one of the records to Newt. “For you, kid.”

Newt looks at it, turns it over. Fleetwood Mac, Rumors. “It’s beautiful.”

“Thought you’d like it.”

“I don’t have a record player.”

“Sure you do.”

“Nooo not really,” Newt says confused. 

“Yeah you just check your dorm when you get there.”

Newt perks up and nods. “Who’s at the store?”

“That new girl. She’s annoying as all hell.”

“Sorry to hear it.”

“I left some projects for you tomorrow, I have some stuff to do.”

“Not that you’re ever there to begin with.”

“That’s why I’m telling you now.” 

Newt scoffs, putting the record in his bag and then marking off the other ones. “Thanks Rob.”

“Anytime kid.”

“You guys are getting along?”

“Sort of yeah.”

“Ready to go home?”

“Sunny is going to be home and I am so excited! I also might get to go to Glasgow for a few days so that’s always nice.”

“Yeah?”

Newt nods. “What about you, what’s your plans?”

“I finally get to see my brother,” Thomas says. He watches as some of the other athletes do all the lifting and run around, taunt each other. He misses the activity, the movement, the burning feeling in his arms after a good night at the gym. He’s still, technically, on bed rest. He’s not allowed to lift very heavy things. “Apparently he’s been going through a lot which is why he hasn’t been around.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah nobody will tell me what he’s going through but I think Nanny and Bram know.”

“You think it’s serious?”

“No idea…” Thomas says. “He’s so strange sometimes. And like where he lives… I don’t know it’s all strange. Also he’s bisexual too but he’s dating like… a guy who’s almost four years older than us?”

“I don’t know, to each his own I guess.”

“Yeah but whenever I ask how they met or why this guy, he like is dodgy about it. It worries me sometimes.”

“Have you told your grandparents?”

“Not my secret to tell.” 

Newt nods, before nudging him and leaning over. “Look about 85 degrees to your right, green shirt?”

Thomas smirks and he searches out who Newt is talking about, Newt accepting the next load of books and records. “What about them?”

“I  _ heard  _ that she was the one who created that whole scandal over the summer about her husband and the company and now she’s being sued by the company for making such a ruccus. It was all over the news too apparently.”

“Why would she do that?”

“Something about money I’m pretty sure.”

“Messed up.”

“Entirely. And then the woman next to her, she’s one of those cut throat moms, her child is a third grader but apparently she is PTO hell.”

“How do you know this?”

“I know everything darling.”

“Everything you say?”

“Everything, everything, everything.”

“Okay then, who’s that guy over there.”

“If I made something up, would you question it?”

“I’m not the one who knows Everything.”

They start to stamp and label the merch that was before them with the school logo. Newt and Thomas gossiping about the students and the people and the town. It was a simple, absolutely freezing afternoon spent in the warm gym. Alby was around, Newt notices, but he helps with things that don’t intertwine him with Newt. Newt is fine with that.

“You ever going to tell me what happened?”

“What do you mean?”

“Between you, Alby and Aris.”

“Aris?”

“Oh come on, he almost  _ cries _ whenever you look at him.”

“He does  _ not _ !” 

Thomas gives him a look and Newt nods.

“Okay, he kinda grabbed my arm at an inconvenient time- and in my defense, I was emotionally disfigured, I was a mess! So I mayyyyyybbbbbeeee threatened to rip his heart out and feed him to the wolves if he ever looked at me again buuuuut you know, it was a low moment.”

“Did you apologize?”

“Kid annoys the shit out of me.”

“Newt!”

“He does! What do you want me to do?” 

“Apologize?”

“He deserved it.”

“And Alby?”

Newt shrugs. 

“Newt he moved out of our suite.”

“Everybody was upset with him.”

“Why?”

“Darling please don’t worry about it-”

“Newt.”

“It took him over 6 hours to get to the hospital because he was at a party.” 

Thomas knew Alby hadn’t been around but he sort of expected it and he nodded slowly. “Is this more about him hurting you?”

“We’re a team, Thomas. The lot of us, we’re like a family. You get hurt, we all do. We pulled through and he didn’t. And I guess, Minho is mad because he hurt me, I needed Alby there and he wasn’t… just, we were all so worried about you, he had no valid excuse. I just… I kept thinking you could be dead… you know? I was so scared, Tommy.” 

“I’m not dead,” Thomas whispers, innocent and soft.

“I know but… at the time we weren’t sure what would happen to you and I just… I was put in a situation where I thought maybe I would lose you, and what would I do then? Minho was put in a place where he had to relive…”  _ losing me  _ Newt thinks. He swallows hard and shakes his head. “Losing me,” he finally whispers. 

Thomas hears it over the white noise of laughter, chatter, music in the gym. His eyes dart at Newt. 

“It was before you came,” he says. 

“Newt…” 

“We were scared, poppet… and you know, I don’t know who was there or not when I wasn’t awake but… I know that Alby came through for Minho. We all felt betrayed. You know?”

“Yeah… Yeah, he deserves it.”

Newt kisses Thomas softly and he knows that some people are staring but it doesn’t matter. Then Thomas’ favorite song comes on and he excitedly pushes Newt’s shoulder, Newt’s eyes wide with alarm but he grins as Thomas bursts into song. He laughs, it was Best Song Ever by One Direction and Thomas knew all the words, and he had this whole little dance. 

“Oh my god! Don’t hurt yourself,” Frypan calls, doing a shimmy at Newt and shimmies back. The dark tone of their previous conversation is overtaken by the happiness in the room, the energy, the vibe. It was a good day, and once everything was put away and stored for January, the group goes to eat in the cafeteria, Newt leaning against Thomas’ arm, kissing his hand occasionally. Teresa joins them to eat but she’s only there briefly before she’s whisked away with her friends. 

Thomas leans over and whispers to Newt, how the girl in the pink (Laney) was with the basketball player from Eastland High, a few towns over,  _ but  _ she had been eyeing Minho for a few weeks and Newt’s brows shoot up, Thomas kissing under his ear and Newt looking at him. “Really?”

“Totally.”

Everybody looks to the two for answers and Chuck tosses a pea at them. “What are you two whispering about?”

“How I’m totally getting fucked later,” Newt decides and Thomas blushes deep red. Newt just smirks as he takes another bite of his dinner. 

“I hate both of you.” 

\---

Home is a word that Newt rarely uses to tell about the place, but as he lays in his bed, just breathing as he shuts his eyes it feels like home. It feels like home. He thinks that the world is okay and it feels like home. His mother walks in and sits on the edge of the bed. Martha Newton was a beautiful, blonde haired, blue eyed woman. Her thin fingers on his knee.

His eyes flutter open and she seems startled. “You’re awake?”

“I was just resting. It’s nice to be home.”

“I’m glad you think that.”

“When is Sunny coming?”

“Oh her flight should land within the next two hours.”

“Good, no snow held her or anything?”

“Not at all.”

He nods. “What’s new?”

“Nothing really,” his mother says. “You haven’t called in a long time…”

“I’m sorry,” He says. “It's been busy.”

She nods. “Nothing at all?”

“We got all the books and stuff for the book buy..”

“Right, that’s in January.”

He nods. “The 27, three days after we start again.”

She nods. “You’re doing okay? Mentally?”

“Yeah, I guess. Why?”

“I’m just asking. Can’t I ask you things?”

“You don’t really ask me much of anything most of the time.”

“That’s not true.”

“It really is.”

“I’ll go tell the maids to bring you coffee.”

“That’s not necessary-”

“It’ll help you relax, I know you like coffee.”

“Sure,” he agrees, deciding it’s better to go pliant than to fight. “When’s Uncle Albert coming? We were thinking of maybe going to Glasgow for a while.”

“Why on earth would you do that? Everything you need is at home, Samuel.”

“Well I want a taste of adventure. I don’t like being pent up very much. I’m pent up at school all year round and well, it’d just be nice. Me, Uncle Albert, and Sunny.”

“What about his wife?”

“She could come too.”

“What about me and your father?”

“What about you guys?”

“Well you come home to see us don’t you.”

“I’ll be here for Christmas. I’ll be here after the trip unless the trip is the last week or two of my vacation. I’ll see you plenty, if you two are even home. Besides Dad would hate it anyways and I don’t know, it’s not your thing. Family trips.”

“It is our thing.”

“I can’t remember a single family trip mum.”

“Oh please, we have too gone on family trips.”

“Shipping me off to boarding school doesn’t count.”

“We spent that whole-”

“To make me feel better about being dumped in a foreign country.”

“We gave you a future.”

“In a foreign country, at 14.”

“Are you saying we did the wrong thing?”

“I don’t know, I’m just saying it doesn’t count as a family trip. You didn’t do it to spend time with me.”

His mother sighs. “Sam I’m too tired for this.”

“I don’t like when you call me Sam.”

“That’s your name. I’ll call you by your name.”

“You don’t call me that unless-”

“Samuel Newton, I will call you how I so choose.”

Sam gets out of bed. “Alright then. Good talk mum.” 

“Where are you going?”

“I don’t know, to the kitchen.”

“Just stay here and rest, I’ll go get the coffee.”

“Why are you-”

“Just stay here!” She snaps and Newt recedes. “Why do you have to make me yell? You’re so  _ difficult. _ Whatever, you want to go with your uncle since apparently he’s so  _ golden  _ compared to us, then go ahead. I don’t care.”

Now Newt just feels bad, and he feels the guilt coil in the storm in his chest, hugging his middle. He wants to apologize, but she’ll just be more angry. The maid returns with coffee some time later and he thanks her quietly and stares at the cup for a long time before texting Thomas.

_ Newt: I hate being home.  _

_ Thomas: What happened? _

_ Newt: its nothing _

_ Thomas: Newt babe _

_ Newt: I’ll call you later. Promise.  _

_ Thomas: okay….. Are you sure?” _

_ Newt: Isn’t it really late by you? Or really early? _

_ Thomas: ……………. Maybe _

_ Thomas: I couldn’t sleep. _

_ Newt: please try and sleep for me  _

_ Newt: i love you _

He resettles into reality, the world drifting as he watches steam lift off the cups lips. A knock sounds at the door and he’s greeted by his father stepping in. “You’re home.”

“I am.”

“Good that then. I’ll see you at dinner.”

“Sure.”

He wonders what they heard to care so much, all the precarious, concerned glances. Who told what, or maybe they’re trying to sink claws of sympathy to get him home in Oxford like they’ve always planned. He gets up and takes the coffee with him, going to his bookshelf, full of all the books he used to love. Long hours and nights dedicated to reading instead of socializing, mostly because nobody here liked him much anyways. He thinks if only they could see him now. 

It doesn’t matter though. Newt falls back against the bed hugging his pillow, waiting for Sunny to come. Eventually he sits up to sip his coffee. The guilt coils and coils and coils. 

It was never suck a relief to hear his sisters voice. 

“Sammy?”

He’s instantly up, and pulling her close. “I love you,” he whispers and she smiles.

“I love you too darling.”

They just stand there, in a world of comfort vs isolation, a desperation to be enough. A need and an understanding that your mind builds fortresses of solitude, guilt, harm and you can’t stop it. Newt is stuck in his repeated words and thoughts. Not good enough, terrible son, bad person. He hugs Sonya because she’s the only person he has right now that understands, understands him, understands the hurt of being left behind by the people you should love.

Newt  _ should  _ love his parents but he hates them. And he feels so awful that he’s lied to Sonya about loving them, but how can you love people who are so brutally cold? How can you care when you’re not cared for in return? (You can’t is the simple answer, it’s complicated is the realistic answer. The history is greater than the cold empty spaces in your body formed by resentment.) 

\---

_ Thomas: matching tattoos _

_ Newt: ? _

_ Thomas: for your birthday, me and you. You’re the moon and I’m the sun _

_ Newt: ohmygod ily is this bc I said I didn’t want to do it alone _

_ Thomas: well I wasn’t going to let you do it alone anyways _

_ Thomas: might as well make it worth it _

_ Newt: I like being the moon and all _

_ Newt: but why did you pick the moon? Besides the tattoo is a star _

_ Thomas: So I’ll be a star _

_ Thomas: because you pull me closer to who I want to be. You’re my gravitational pull _

_ Newt: lmao that’s so gross _

_ Newt: That’s so cUTE  _

_ Newt: I hate it _

_ Thomas: you love me _

_ Newt: I do. _

_ Newt: imu _

_ Thomas: :(  _

_ Thomas: I’d come to England if I could I’m so bored _

_ Thomas: my brother doesn’t get off until like next week or something _

_ Newt: after christmas maybe I’ll come to you _

_ Thomas: why can’t I come to England? _

_ Newt: bc where would you stay _

_ Newt: my parents are like upset IM home let alone if I let a friend home _

_ Thomas: i doubt they’re upset _

_ Newt: You would not even believe _

Newt looks up from his phone, his parents fighting in the living room just outside the kitchen. He sips his coffee and he thinks they meant to be quiet, but they’re not. Something shatters and he’s not much phased. The past week has been similar to the constituents of hell. All they do is yell and break cups and glasses and scoff at each other. Sometimes they’ll talk, in soft, hushed voices, and it’ll seem important or even loving. It doesn’t last. They’ll all sit in a dissonant silence at the table. Sonya and Newt communicate through glances, and gestures. It was all a very, very disorientating ordeal. 

“Why can’t you just listen to me!”

“I am listening! All I do is listen to you and what you need!”

Newt thinks neither of them listen much at all. 

_ Newt: you wouldn’t want to stay here anyways _

_ Thomas: We could go to a hotel or something. We could meet in another country or something _

_ Newt: would your nana even let you _

_ Thomas: idk maybe _

_ Newt: yeah maybe _

At least christmas was soon, and that meant Uncle Albert would be staying over, and there would be some form of peace and conversation in the house. Maybe. Just maybe. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AS ALWAYS thanks for reading! I appreciate you guys so much and I really hope you enjoyed it, even if this chapter wasn't as good as some of my previous ones! I promise another chapter is coming soon, you just need to be patient with me <3 Since it's sunday for me I hope you guys start your week off right!


	18. Better Off Dead

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Christmas! We finally meet Stiles, Thomas' twin brother, and soon enough his boyfriend. We also see a look into Newt's dysfunctional family life!  
> Fluffy Newtmas at the end!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I just want to say this chapter has a lot of heart behind it, the opening piece for Newt is very dark and almost sinister in the thought process but this is how I personally think sometimes. A lot of the time I dream of very terrifying things and I'll wake up feeling horrified. But this thought process merges into my conscious being and like, I dunno, that can be so disorienting, to just be laying there when you're so tired and then you're in a dark place.   
> I think this chapter was more about dialogue than visuals and I think we are slowly fleshing out Newt as an independent person but also he's slowly going to work on becoming better? I think it also shows the importance of the newtmas relationship, the power of having somebody who genuinely seems to understand which Sonya doesn't, she's just 15, his parent's don't, his uncle sort of does but it's not quite the same? I dunno, I think this chapter is very sweet in some ways but painful in others.   
> It definitely gets better from here I think, when Newt gets away from home. You definitely see regression this chapter and a lot of it is being in a bad environment.   
> Please, feel free to talk to me if you need a person!   
> Tumblr: Waldenbeckboys

The air between them was thin with white puffs from their breathing. Stiles eyes focused on the sky, and there was more than an anchor between them, rather an eternal silence. If you were in space, you would hear nothing, not even your own breathing. Thomas believes he is in space, buzzing like an atom but he thinks his brother is the friction that causes an explosion. He worries his lip in that way that he wants to talk but he doesn’t. His hands ball up snow before letting go. His breath is fast, he doesn’t want to look over because Stiles might be crying and he doesn’t know what to do. They used to always get each other, things were so much different now. 

“I just…. Want to leave there so bad.”

Thomas hesitates before linking their hands. And his brother folds into him, sobbing. He doesn't know what hurt him but he hates them, he hates whatever it is hurting him. “You're okay… you're with me and it's okay.”

“I killed him, I killed him… I  _ killed  _ him.”

Thomas doesn't know what he means, or if he's serious. Panic strikes his chest, his heart clenches. 

“It should've been me.”

“No,” Thomas instantly says. “ ** _No_** it shouldn't have. You're so important to me. Whatever it is, whatever you had to do, you did it because you had to.”

“You don't understand.”

“I understand you and that you're so good at heart Stiles. I know you wouldn't do anything you didn't have to…”

He wants to ask where was  _ Derek  _ in all of this, he doesn't. He doesn't know enough about Derek at all to make any comments or passing judgment. “You're okay…” he whispers. “You're okay.”

The world was falling around them, stuck on this desolate island of frozen dirt, of plush snow carpeted between them. They sink in the cold, they sink in the emotions between them. Stiles  _ needed  _ him but then again, Stiles needed a lot more than him. He wants to help but he's drowning in the earth. If he focuses he thinks he can feel the earth spinning, he wonders if Stiles can feel it too. Stiles is breathing hard, trying to keep together. Thomas squeezes him close. This wasn't the depression Newt contained inside him, it was more.

It was more than anything Thomas could describe. They were miles apart while sitting together, because Stiles was right: Thomas doesn't understand. He whispers he's sorry, he's sorry, he's sorry, while shaking. Shivering. He'd shatter like crystal glass and Thomas would be stuck trying to put the pieces together. He sucks in a breath, his voice quivers as he tries to express how okay Stiles has to be.

“Please… you can't leave me. You can't. I need you Stiles, I need you here.”

And slowly silence unravels, Stiles sits up hugging his knees. “I..” he starts. “Derek… left, last summer after something really terrible happened. Moved to South Carolina…”

“Yeah..?” Thomas says confused.

“I think… i think I'm going to go move in with him.”

“Stiles… is that smart?”

“I don't know…  _ I don't know _ , okay? But I need to be somewhere far. I need to be far away from…. home.”

“Is it dad?”

“No… well… not really. He's just… he doesn't know how to handle it all and Scott is so distant and I'm alone. I'm  _ alone _ . Okay? I have nothing. And if I'm here, by nan, dad will follow me. Derek can take care of me, there I'll be safe.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.” Stiles looks at him determined, he has these ridiculous whisky eyes that twinkle gold in the light, brightened by the snow. If you listen close enough, snow seems to jingle like bells. Thomas moves closer to him, hugging stiles close, head pressed to his temple and Stiles eyes shut. “He can help me… at least maybe I'll feel better if I'm in his arms.”

“Stiles… why not come by me?”

“You and I lead very different lives, Tommy.”

“So?”

“So I just… I know you can't help me. You… you wouldn't believe me.”

“Are you running from the law?”

“What?”

“You said you killed someone. Are you running?”

“Not from the  _ law.” _

_ “ _ Does-”

“It's complicated… please.”

“I'm confused.”

“Just… leave it alone.”

“Okay, fine.” 

They fall silent and Stiles squeezes his hand. “I'm not in any sort of trouble.”

“You're sure?”

“Scott's… caught up with the wrong kind of people. I was caught in the cross fire.”

“Is Derek the ‘wrong kind of person’?”

“Derek…” Stiles can't find the words to describe his bizarre and surreal situation of a mystic world, so transuniversal to his brothers own world where people with fangs don't exist. What do you say? How do you explain your best friend dropped you for a girl and has since dragged you into near death ever since, because he  _ had to  _ be independent. Sure this is sort of his fault at first but then Scott got involved, stayed where war was being waged. Then he ran into burning building after burning building and Stiles had no choice but to follow. Stiles feels wrung out. “Derek is the hero of my whole world. He did the right thing… leaving.”

“Oh,” Thomas says. “Was he one of those people?”

“I… not really. He tried to save Scott. But Scott doesn't listen to anyone, not for what it's worth.”

“He got you hurt?”

“Please don't freak out… just I stopped trusting him and just about everyone else. How can I trust him with what he's doing?”

“I'm sorry…” he whispers, kissing his brothers head. “Please don't… don't do anything stupid.”

“I talked to Nanas, im taking a different car so the jeep can't be tracked and going to Derek's after new year. I'll take my GED and rest for a while. I'll apply to college next year.”

Thomas nods. “Let me drive you.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.” Thomas rubs Stiles shoulder. “I feel like I'm losing you in a weird way…”

“You're not losing me.”

“I know but… I dunno.”

“One day when it doesn't hurt so bad I'll explain.”

“You promise?”

“I promise Tom.” Stiles nods certain and his eyes are mocha colored sadness, coffee flavored heartbreak, insomnia tinted skin.

“Don't let him hurt you,” is what Thomas says. Its late on Christmas Eve.

“I won't…” stiles pauses which mean his brain is working extra hard, and Thomas knows that face where he's putting things together. Its the same face their father made when he's putting pieces together. Said father was not here this Christmas, because his mom in Ohio was sick or just mad about something. Stiles suffered the brunt of the otherside, Thomas isn't sure they even remembered who he is. “You spent three weeks over the summer with some guy. You're always texting someone but you never tell me  _ who _ exactly. What's up with that? We have no secrets.” Thomas blushes.

“He's my boyfriend. His name is Newt.”

Stiles laughs. “I'm not allowed to ask what kind of name  _ that is  _ now am I?”

Thomas laughs too. “ _ Stiles  _ is better than  _ Mieczyslaw _ .”

“It is. You didn't get a weird name.”

“Mom was exhausted after naming you. By the time it was my turn she went-  _ fuck it name him something generic, like Thomas.” _

“Like Tom Cat because she loved Tom Cat…” they both laugh. “And dad would be so flustered from seeing a live birth he'd just agree.”

“At least you have some mystique.”

“Nah… i just get weird looks accompanied by  _ what the hell is a Stiles? _ ” 

“Newt would like you,” I think. Unlike his brother, Thomas wasn't so sarcastic or quick witted. He immersed himself in reading but stiles emersed, projected, took notes, painted his wall with obsession- That's another thing, Stiles  _ obsesses  _ a lot. He gets fixed on things and he works them until he understands them, Derek is both unlucky and lucky for that reason. 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah… he's got this whole vibe about him. He's more like me than you but he's witty and a genius-”

“I'm not a genius.”

“ _ Shut up _ . You're amazing.”

“Is he cute?”

“Newt? Yeah. Hes baby faced sorta.”

He pulls up a picture of them in late October, Newt grinning, in big black sunglasses, hair just gently sweeping his eyes. He  _ loves  _ him. “He's Precious,” Stiles cooes. 

“You never show  _ me  _ pictures of you and Derek.”

“Oh geez, he's such a dork… we've mostly been texting and phone calls because I haven't gone and he hasn't been back…” stiles pulls out his phone, cold hands trembling and his phone is colder than the snow on the ground. It sort of hurts. He pulls up a picture he took of Derek with him when they went to the beach one night before he'd left. “I miss him.”

“I miss Newt.”

“He's a  _ babe _ I'd totally fuck him.”

“Stiles!”

He laughs, tackling Thomas in the stone and they're too numb and cold to care, laughing carelessly. They hug, Stiles hiding in his shoulder. “Visit me before you go to college.”

“I promise I swear… I'll spend all summer with you.”

“You don’t have to, I don’t wanna hold you back.”

“Stiles you’re my womb buddy, I’d do anything for you.”

Stiles laughs, his sharp, defined features lighting up, whiskey eyes squinted and bright. “Thank you so much Thomas…” 

“I always have your back big brother.”

\---

White Christmas was the American illusion created to trick children into thinking snow somehow contained magic in it’s flurrying ways. But in London it showered ice rain that chilled your spine and froze the trees branches and pounded the big glass windows of his grandmother's estate. He walks slowly down the halls, it was about 6 AM now and he was the only one awake. He trails the halls like a moaning ghost, searching for it’s justice and purpose. For rest for it’s soul. He sits against the stoop on one of the windows, the curtain draped over his shoulder. Outside the world was drenched in a dense fog and an immense cold, the kind of cold that cuts you in half. The kind of cold that burns. He trails a knuckle against the window, letting goosebumps chase the cells up his arm, and he sighs slowly, breathing slowly. 

He’ll say in the morning it’s excitement, and perhaps nerves. He’ll say the rain kept him up. (Well it is morning, but he only counts it if others are up.) He could tell them all about how the rain was so very wild, and how he just couldn’t sleep with the wind howling. He just couldn’t stop tossing and turning.

His slim form rises against the red curtains and the greyish blue hue of the sky colors the whole room, making him a boy of greyish blue, from the skylights to the tall casement windows. It was eerie, and he truly does feel like a ghost, lost and empty as he slowly steps down each stair, his finger pads dancing along the top of the railing, thinking about all the people who had been here before him. The ghosts of those people walk beside him, with soft, silent footsteps. Meaning and beauty took the strangest of forms. This was the kind of beauty that you made to escape. You think the morning light in dense, cold rain is beautiful, even though it’s ugly and cold and everything is wet and muddy outside, because if you didn’t you’d be even more miserable. Newt doesn’t want to be miserable. He doesn’t want to think so much. He doesn’t have the proper access to his medication with so much family around. It puts him in a place where his brain is filled with a sadness he can’t explain. A hollow feeling that disconnected him, like the plug was pulled and his batteries died. 

He goes to the drawing room, sitting on the ancient couches and drawing up his knees, his nike joggers keeping him warm, his big  _ Yale  _ sweatshirt keeping him safe. He grabs his phone and texts Thomas, who’s about 9 hours back. 

_ Newt: It’s raining. Merry Christmas sweet love.  _

He puts his phone down. The world spins slowly in front of his eyes and he finds his way to the wood floor and just sits, as if he’s trying to feel the world spinning beneath him. Slowly he sinks into the wooden flooring and just lays there, listening to the rain outside. The curtains were drawn, the room was eerily dark. He’s convinced he might wake up in some alternate universe somewhere, some strange, unruly place, with dark halls and vines up the walls, and a broken, deep voice will becken him forward, tilting his head forward with the tip of a knife and they’ll tell him he’s done living and he’ll tell them that there was no point in fighting. He wouldn’t be afraid of it, of the demon holding the knife. 

“Maybe if I bleed, I’ll be alive and I’ll feel the rush of excitement one last time,” he’d say. Like a Grimm Brothers fairytale. What was the one that was so short? The dead child undead. Not a boy, not a girl, life is short, then you’re dead and then you’re not. It wasn’t much longer than it’s summary but he thinks it’d be a lot like that, his story. The demon would be the wolf, and he thinks that he’d be like the Red Riding Hood in that one version, where she throws all her clothes into the fire, to become like her enemy to save her own life. He thinks by facing the demon with so much courage, he’s throwing his clothes into the fire, simply romantic and poetic and twisted in every way. And the blood would spill from the very faint, very thin cut the knife’s tip forms, and somehow somebody somewhere would say it’s sexual deviance. The torture must be sweet, the demon must be his sexuality. It’s not. 

Newt’s hand makes its way to his throat and he slowly traces where the cut would be and he thinks that he wouldn’t die, he’d just live as somebody totally different. He’d live with this long thin scar and he’d be unbothered, he’d be carefree. When your clothes burn in fires, you burn too. You become the red flame that kisses up the legs of adventure, of heaven, of hell. He doesn’t know what he’s seeking, but he’s seeking an answer. He opens his eyes and the room is still dark. He almost feels a pressure on his legs, there’s nothing there though. He gets up and feels them, slowly, trying to whisk the pressure away. Nobody was there, logically ghosts couldn’t exist- if they did he would be one. He was the simple grey, the dark blue that’s made residence in the aura of every room. He sighs slowly and makes his way back to bed. 

He wakes up and Sonya is laying on his chest. Tracing patterns. “You’re up?” she says, looking up at him. She’s in her big red christmas dress with the long sleeves that were adorned with gold at their cuffs. 

“Recently… when did I fall asleep?”

“I’ve no idea darling,” she says smiling. “You didn’t sleep well?”

“I just can’t… I don’t know.”

It was still drizzling outside. He adjusts in the bed, Sonya sitting up to let him sit up. “Get dressed,” she whispers. “We’re waiting for you.” 

“Oh,” he whispers embarrassed.

“Don’t be frightened.”

“I’m not, just… You didn’t have to.”

“Of course we did,” she says, kissing his hand, leaving her blush pink lipstick in its wake. “Come on, there’s a big breakfast and presents waiting.”

He nods, getting up and he wears his gold silk button up with black trousers and dress shoes. They make their way downstairs and join the family, he greets each person, smiling softly. “Slept in, did ya?” one uncle asks and he laughs. 

“I was so comfortable, I just missed my alarm.”

“Awh it’s christmas, you deserve the rest,” an aunt responds. His parents stand idly by, talking to other family. 

“Nobody needs to rest that much,” Newt teases and they all sort of laugh. 

“You’ve come a long way, you deserve it,” Albert assures clasping a hand on his shoulder. They had these angelic sounding christmas songs playing on a big, old record player, and there’s breakfast on the table. Newt smiles softly. 

“Thank you,” he says and his Aunt Kathrine, in a similar dress to Sonya’s stands on his other side, she was Albert’s wife. A charming irish woman with reddish brown hair and big green eyes, a perky smile that lit up the room. He thinks for a moment that he belongs. 

\---

The previous night Nana had alluded to a guest joining them for Christmas but wouldn’t say who, so of course when Derek Hale himself was brought in through the door, Stiles tripped down the stairs, absolutely stunned. 

“Why didn’t you tell me you were coming?”

“Because your grandma is scarier than you are,” Derek says, and he has this adorable sort of smile, dimples in his cheeks. He looks absolutely smitten with Stiles and Stiles is wide eyed and in a big sweatshirt and pajama bottoms while his boyfriend is looking like an absolute model in his coat and jeans.

“I wanted to surprise you,” nana says, smiling softly. Derek is accompanied by joel and Bram. Stiles melts into a soft smile, letting Derek hug him. 

“Your cold,” he complains softly, eyes gentle and all that dissatisfaction melts and Thomas feels his heart break with the happiness he has for Stiles. Derek seems to laugh and kiss him briefly. 

“You okay?”

“I will be,” he promises. “I’m going to be.”

He nods and Stiles grips onto the green jacket like he depends on it, he sort of just can’t believe Derek is here. His body is slim, and rather thin compared to Derek who was built like a wall, thick with muscle. They fit sort of perfect against each other, he wonders if he and Newt fit perfect like that.

As Thomas walks into the kitchen with his grandmother she explains he doesn’t have any family left really, that his sister was taken in by a family in south America, and his uncle was in a mental institution. The rest of his family was murdered 5 years ago in a fire. 

“He’s got a good job now though with an architecture company, a small house.”

“He'll take care of Stiles?”

“He will.”

Thomas nods, glancing over at the two, still embracing by the stairs, Derek keeping him up, and they seem to speak in faint whispers, eyes dazzling with love. It makes his heart ache for Newt. The last message he got from Newt was hours ago. 

\---

Newt is spectacularly busy and as the night winds down, over dinner, before the Christmas mass. Newt hardly says a word, the adults do most of the talking, and whenever he’s asked about college, his parents deflect.

“Why won’t you let him speak?” Uncle Joseph finally snaps. “The boy is just about 18 and you damn well keep talking over him like he’s a bloody child!” 

“He doesn’t know what he wants,” his father says. “He’s confused.”

“Confused about what, exactly? Newt is a genius,” his grandmother confronts sternly.

“I want to go into pre med then become a surgeon. I want to go to Yale.”

“Yale for Pre Med? You sure not harvard? Or Kings here in London?” One of his aunts says. 

“Well I applied to all of those, and oxford too, just… Oxford isn’t very high on the list.”

“And that matters to your parents because of Legacy,” his grandmother pieces. “All the schools he listed are more than fair.”

“He doesn’t have the fire to be a doctor.”

“I do too,” Newt says. 

“ _ Sam  _ don’t talk back to your father,” his mother cuts in.

“He doesn’t like being called that,” Uncle Albert says. “Pay him some respect, don’t’ya have faith in your own son?”

“Faith that he can do good in a normal job, he’s too ambitious, over his head.”

“He’s the top of his class, Martha.”

“For shit he is, not like he can manage on his own most days.”

“Not that you’d know! You’re never with him, obviously he’s fine if he’s here.”

“He doesn’t know what he wants, so stay out of it!”

“And you know?”

“Do you know better? Since you’re such a golden angel to him?”

“Better a parent to him than you have been, sister.” 

Newt tenses, watching the two siblings argue over his mental health in front of everyone: his cousins, his grandparents on both sides, his aunts and uncles and extended family and sister. “It doesn’t matter,” Newt says, soft but panicked. 

“You don’t  _ know  _ him like I do,” His mother says and Newt thinks she’s wrong. She doesn’t know him at all. 

“I know him plenty better.”

“You don’t have to sit through his  _ idiotic _ therapy sessions-”

“Martha Newton,” Aunt Sylvia snaps. “You stop your yapping right this instant, you have no business making this a public affair.

Newt can tell everybody is staring at him. “Excuse me, I think… I think I’m just going to go,” Newt says as calm as he can. He kisses his grandmother's hand, before turning and leaving, the room echoing in silence. 

“You fucking bitch,” Sonya catches her father mutter and Martha sits down. 

“Not that you’re any better,” she snaps and everybody stares at the two. 

Newt lays against his pillow, trying to keep his tears in but he can’t. He turns over and grabs the pillow, sobbing into it’s flesh. He can’t help it, he feels devoured by the emotion. How could his parents just sit there and talk about him like that when he was right there? It feels unfair. He cries until he’s numb, and it’s well past 12 when he finally texts Thomas. 

_ Newt: they did it, they ruined me right in front of my entire family and I hate them. I hate them I hate them. I can’t stand them. I just wanna go back to school, I don’t ever want to see them again. _

_ Thomas: what happened? _

_ Newt: At dinner they just snapped _

_ Newt: mom just burst about how i’m confused about my life and i’m incapable _

_ Newt: said the therapy was stupid, that I couldn’t handle my own life and that I can’t even get myself out of bed _

_ Newt: which is not true  _

_ Newt: so not true _

_ Newt: i try so hard every day I can’t do this anymore I can’t _

_ Thomas: you can, you will. You’re going to come back to me okay? _

_ Thomas: newt please answer _

_ Newt: Everything feels terrible I can’t breathe _

_ Thomas: what?? _

_ Newt: I’m crying and I can’t breathe _

_ Thomas: it's okay to cry _

_ Newt: they're all drinking downstairs and I can’t even keep together I’m so weak _

_ Thomas: you’re not weak _

_ Newt: I feel weak _

_ Newt: maybe they’re right _

_ Thomas: they’re not  _

_ Thomas: god help me you’re going to be a doctor and do everything you ever dreamed _

_ Thomas: you’re going to make it _

_ Thomas: please Newt _

_ Thomas: Please babe I love you so much don’t do this to yourself _

_ Newt: I love you too _

_ Thomas: you can do anything babe _

_ Newt: thank you _

He just stares at the ceiling until the door open and Sonya’s familiar weight joins him on the bed. “You okay?”

“I hate them,” Newt whispers. “I hate them, so much.”

She laces their hands. “Me too, Sammy. But I love you.”

He turns to tuck his face in her neck and she instantly hugs him to her chest as he cries. She doesn’t tell him he should be protecting her, like when they were much younger, but she rocks him until he sleeps and she stays with him the whole night. 

\---

Fight, they get home and all his parents do is fight. Newt sits outside, cradling his cup as he swings on the cold, cold porch swing. The grand porch is empty, it's dead night and the porch light is an icy white, the moon is icy too. They shine dim on him and it's mostly dark. He thinks of the demon with the knife again, approaching him slowly with it's single sharp talon, pointed his way, tilting his chin.  His father joins him eventually, a towel over his shoulder. There was blood near his temple. “Don’t ever marry a woman,” he says.

“Good thing I’m into men then,” Newt says without thinking, then he tenses, almost afraid of the lashing out. It doesn’t come. They just sit in silence.

“Is he good to you?”

“Who?”

“Your boyfriend?”

Newt looks confused for a moment but his dad stops him. 

“I pay more attention than you think.”

“Stalker,” Newt says.

“I don’t want you to be like me.”

“Yes you do.”

He pauses. “I don’t. I sit in there fighting with your mother and I think I’m a shit man, a shit father… I don’t think I’ll ever change. Listen, you need money to go to Yale, you need contacts, you need anything? I’ll give it to you.”

“I want you to like me.”

“I forgot how to love people.”

“Than I pity you.”

“Only god can help me now.”

“Amen.”

\---

The morning was vague in it’s sense but powerful through the stained glass, Newt praying alone in the chapel, tucked away in London’s city streets. He just clasps his hands and prays, for what he’s not really sure. The colored light reflects on him, making him the holiest, and he's not even sure if the sun is out, he doesn't remember anything but grey clouds since Christmas, but there was light emitting from somewhere and it shown for him. He only notices another presence when their throat clears and looks up to see his uncle.

“We support you,” his uncle whispers. “I know what they did hurt but find it in you to forgive them.”

“I’m trying,” Newt whispers back. “I am… it’s just so hard when living is hard already.”

“I know…” he takes Newts hands and kisses them. “I know… but you’re going to be amazing.”

Newt wishes he believed him.

“Newt what lays heavy on your heart?”

“I’m gay,” he whispers. “I’m gay,” he says more surely. “And I have a boyfriend who loves me.”

“Do you love him?”

“Yes…”

“This is our secret.”

“Grandma is never to know,” he agrees and they both smile, Albert kissing the top of Newt’s long hair. 

“You’re precious to me, you are so gifted and absolutely blessed our lives when you were born. We all knew you were born to be amazing Newt. You were born to be  _ stunner _ .”

\---

_ January 3rd  _

_ Thomas: Follow the map. _

_ Newt: what? _

_ Thomas: I have a surprise for you follow the map _

_ Newt: okay…? _

He opens the map and follows where the navigation leads him, he doesn’t see an address on there so he doesn’t know where he’s going. He just walks and walks, going all through London until he ends up in front of a hotel. 

_ Newt: I think you sent me to the wrong place _

_ Thomas: just keep following _

_ Newt: what is this? _

_ Thomas: just please? Trust me? _

_ Newt: fine _

Newt follows the dots inside and a badge comes up, he shows it to the person who comes to check and they just let him through. He nods and follows the app all the way to a room near the top floor. Nobody else seemed to occupy the room. On the door he was lead to was a key and he opens it to find a big romantic bedroom. 

“Merry christmas!” Thomas says, jumping out from behind the door and Newt startles but laughs, kissing Thomas. 

“What is this? What are you doing?”

“This is our romantic getaway. It’s all I could afford with what I’ve been saving up.”

Newt feels excitement well up in him and he can’t help but jump in Thomas’ (much stronger than his, thank you) arms, legs clambering to get around his waist, and Thomas holds him there, their arms locked around each other as they kiss deep and passionate, Thomas trying to stay balanced and not sway back, but he twists so he presses against the door, slamming it shut between their mingling breaths, the smacking of lips. Newt’s whole weight prominent on his hips and Thomas  _ loved it _ . 

They could hardly break apart but eventually when Thomas’ hand moved up his thigh, newt’s leg lost it’s grip around him and slipped down, the two sighing into each other, Newt’s hand slipping through Thomas’ hair. “I missed you,” he whispers. “I missed you like no other.”

Thomas nods, kissing him against, just the corner of his mouth, his lips slowly closing around the skin there, lips wet and Newt’s hands were against his neck now, one on his arm that was holding the sides of Newt’s face. 

“Derek came for Christmas… sucked to see him and Stiles just so happy together and you’re all those miles away.”

“I’m here now…”

“I love you.”

Newt grins, kissing him. “I love you too… I love you so much.”

Between desperate kisses, Thomas tells him, “I promised I’d visit.”

“Thought you were lying.”

“I’m not a liar.”

“You could be.”

They slip away to the bed, falling back, hands gripping at shirts, hips grinding up and it’s hours before they have any will to get off each other. They didn’t even know they could have enough energy in their bodies to go for as long as they did- in short, they had a lot of sex. Then they showered and Newt was comfortably bundled in Thomas clothes as they adjusted to the new Sheets the maid had put there when they slipped away. 

“See, the best movie to watch right now is Little Mermaid,” Thomas says.

“We just had sex like a million times and you want to watch the little mermaid?”

“Yes?”

“We should watch Better off Dead.” 

“What’s that?”

Newt gasps. “You’ve never seen it?”

“No?”

“Well now we have to watch it!”

“We do?”

“It’s like really romantic but really funny. It’s about this boy who’s depressed and his girlfriend dumps him and it gets worse, but then a french exchange student shows up and the two fall in love? It’s great.”

“Sounds interesting.” Newt nods, putting on the Hulu provided and putting it on. “We’re watching it.”

“I can see that,” Thomas teases, and Newt hugs him, kissing his neck before he starts the movie.

“What are you doing?” Thomas whispers, smiling. 

“You do know you’ve really helped me lately right?”

“What?”

“Christmas eve last week… you really did help.”

“Sammy…” Thomas whispers, turning to kiss him and Newt kisses back and they fall against plush pillows. “I love you… I won’t leave you.”

“I love you too…” he whispers, watching Thomas. “I guess I’m really not Better off Dead, not when I have you to live for…”

“No you’re not…”

Thomas grins, and he clicks play, Newt kissing under his ear as he gets comfortable. His phone buzzes, and he texts his mom back that he’s safe and with some friends. He sleeps all night that night. 

\---

They wake up and Newt just hugs Thomas’ arm. “Sunny said she’ll stop by with some stuff for me,” he whispers.

“Like your medication?”

“Yeah…”

“We can just lay here.”

“We could,” Newt agrees. 

“You fell asleep before the movie ended.”

“I did?”

“Yeah… it was really good and the ending? Classic. I bet you Stiles loves it.”

Newt laughs. “His kind of movie then?”

“He’s such a doof, you wouldn’t believe we’re twins.” 

Newt nods. Sonya texts him that she can only meet him in the lobby, he kisses Tommy before promising to be back. 

“Morning, you look like a proper wreck.”

“I can’t feel my legs,” he admits, trying to fix his hair and she grins.

“Feeling okay?”

“I’m not really sure… I kind of fell asleep before the euphoria could die off.”

“Now?”

“Well pills can do magic sometimes.”

She smiles sadly and kisses his cheek. “Call me if you get in trouble.”

“Promise I won’t need to but I’ll keep it in mind.”

“You might, you cause trouble.”

“Rarely.”

“Oh please,” she teases and bumps his shoulder, he bumps back before pulling her hair playfully and she whacks him. “Rude!”

“Ss’ what you get,” he teases before they kiss goodbye and she rushes back to her car. He smiles and goes back upstairs. He settles in and Thomas has decided to replay Better Off Dead from the beginning. Newt thinks he can relate, to somebody who is so entirely hopeless but trying to have hope.

He takes the pills and tries to dim down the voices in his head. “Thomas?”

“Yeah Newt?”

“I’m sorry if I’ve been much lately.”

“You haven’t been.”

He looks to Newt and Newt is almost startled by the sudden eye contact. “Maybe I am better off dead…”

“You’re not.”

“I just… I feel like a burden.”

“You’re not.”

“Thomas?”

“Yes?”

“Don’t leave me.”

“I’ll be here, all your life.”

“Thank you.”

“I love you, Sammy.”

“I love you too…”

They kiss and he feels a little less empty, it’s nice to have a friend in a sea of sympathy. Newt will never let him go, his best friend, his lover. And no, he is not better off dead, even if the world beats down on his poor heart like a wrecking ball trying to break a solid wall. He’ll be okay. They’ll be okay. 


	19. If Boys Will Be Boys

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Newt begins to heal. A second glimpse into "the incident"  
> Warning: details of attempted suicide

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote and Edited this entirely on my phone so please bare with me if the formatting is shit or the spacing is bad Or even if it lacks some detail. Normally my best happens on my laptop but im on the road so for now this had to do u.u   
> Opening poem is by me!

The walls are riddled with words that nobody else could see, words that were spoken just between you and me. There was a writing in the corner, that was every time you said you loved me. And I was broken, to pieces, to smithereens, when you left for the day. My breast was exposed to you, in the pale moonlight that shown on me, illuminating my skin against the stars to see. Your kisses were never to be forgotten by me. Everything was generosity, when it was your fair kisses on my pale skin, glowing in the moons embers.   
I love you and you don’t love me  
I love you and you don’t love me  
I love you and you don’t love me  
You love me, it was the moons ecstasy.   
\---  
It was January 12, and Newt and Thomas had flown back to school early alongside the student council kids and anybody involved with fundraising. He and Minho had shut the bathroom door to smoke while the rest settled back in the dorms.

  
“It was like fucking hell man,” Minho says shaking his head. “All they did was fight with my uncle about moving and where to move and-” he sighs heavily.

  
“Believe me, I know the feeling.”

  
“Yeah? You hardly texted.”

  
“I didn’t want to bother you.”

  
“You’re never a bother to me. I mean yeah, other people bother me, but you don’t. Ever.”

  
“Ever?”

  
“Ever.”

  
“So-” Newt pauses, him and Minho leaning in almost forehead to forehead as Minho lit them up, Newt turning the shower on to steam out of the smoke. “If I just started poking you and repeating the same stupid phrase over and over again, would I bother you then?”

  
“Nope. It's because I love you bitch.”

  
Newt laughs, head tilting back as he huffs out smoke. Him and Minho were like this, they could taunt and tease and be absolutely serious at the same time.

  
“Your mom real hard on you again?” Minho asks.

  
“Totally humiliated me in front of my whole family.”

  
“Yeah?”

  
“Yeah, made a whole scene of it: her and my dad.”

  
“Thomas came back with you.”

  
“He stayed the last few days in London with me. We had this nice hotel room.”

  
“What did you read books to each other all night or something?”

  
“No we fucked like rabits a good 50% of the time, I took him sightseeing 30% and the last twenty was just empty time together- getting dinner or walking in parks or what have you.”

  
“Look at you, getting it on.”

  
“I’ve discovered I’m quite the whore,” Newt teases and Minho pushes the smoke from between his lips, arm dangling carelessly over his knee. He looks so effortless, with Newt like this. “You remind me of those white men from westerns. You know the really tough looking ones with grease on their faces?”

  
“And bad spray tans?”

  
“Yeah except your tan is real.”

  
“Oh you bet your ass it is.”

  
“Say it in a texan accent, so it’s authentic.”

  
“You bet your ass it is,” he repeats except this time it’s texan. Newt can’t stop laughing and that makes Minho laughing and for a while they’re just choking on smoke and laughing because it’s not really that funny but it is so funny to them in that moment, and it’s like the world is melting away with the cigarette smoke. Like everything is wafting between them and the showers and the fume. It’s stupid, but it matters to them in that moment. The laughter melts and Newt rests his head on Minho’s shoulder.

  
“Is he good in bed?”

  
“Thomas?”

  
“No your other boyfriend,” Minho slurs sarcastically and Newt scoffs, smirk on his features.

  
“Oh my other boyfriend is okay but you know, Thomas is better,” Newt plays along. “I discovered he’s amazing at sucking dick.”

  
“Our Thomas?”

  
“Yeah can you believe?”

  
“Wow,” Minho says laughing. “I still have not slept with… or kissed… or even held hands with Brenda.”

  
“You’re doing amazing.”

  
“Aren’t I?”

  
“Don’t be scared of her. She’s tough yeah, but she doesn’t bite much.”

  
“You’re like her soft cuddly gay friend, she’d never bite you.”

  
“I’m not soft!”

  
Newt’s head shoots up off his shoulder and Minho laughs. “No! You know what I meant.”

  
“That’s homophobic, I’m so offended.”

  
“You’re cuddly!”

  
“I’m bony!”

  
“Oh my god,” Minho groans, giving up. “You’re impossible.”

  
“If anything you’re cuddle and soft.”

  
“Hard muscle.”

  
“Yeah sure.”

  
“Not to bust on the love parade,” Gally says, walking in, “but Frypan has lunch ready and we need to start setting up the book dash stuff.”

  
“Why, is Thomas not paying attention to you?” Newt teases, Minho standing and pulling him up, Newt blowing smoke into his face playfully and Minho shoves him, the two giggling in their wild happiness to just see each other again. It doesn’t matter if they don’t talk for ages, they just fall back together. Always.

  
“New year New me, I’m over him.”

  
“Yeah? I give it another week and you’ll be aaaalll over him,” Minho jokes along with Newt and Gally, who by the by is scowling. Newt raises his eyebrows and nods. 

  
“I won't! I-” he groans giving in, leaving and Minho turns the water off, rubbing Newts back a moment.

  
“You really think I got a shot with Brenda?”

  
“If you get the balls to ask her to be your girlfriend, sure.”

  
Minho huffs. “Not even dating.”

  
“So ask her out.”

  
He laughs. “Easy for you to say. You're a pretty boy.”

  
“Hey! You're hot as all hell, bruv. She'd be an idiot not to want you,” Newt says as they walk out. “I'd do you.”

  
“Minho's my boyfriend. Fuck off,” Frypan jokes, Winston laughing.

  
“Wait I thought Minho was my boyfriend?” Winston says.

  
“Shit, who needs a woman when you've got two boyfriends,” Newt says laughing, Thomas bickering with Gally in the background somewhere.

  
Minho grins. “You shitty fucks,” he says, letting Frypan pull him under his arm, his own arm slung around Frys waist.

  
“Ride or die bitch,” Frypan jokes.

  
“Terrence,” Minho says softly, with hidden offense. Frypans real name was Terrence Scalderwall, Terry C for short back home. They started calling him Frypan because he always wore these ridiculous pajama bottoms with frypans on them, oil and sizzling eggs with animated eyes included. Eventually they stopped calling him Terry and started saying Frypan to taunt him, didn't help much that he loved to cook.

  
“Yes?” Frypan whispers back.

  
“Watch your mouth.”

  
“Sorry.”

  
They both beam and it feels like home, the lot of them here together. The warmth in their chests burning up the room.

  
“No!” Thomas yells as he and Gally walk out of the room. “It's wrong!”

  
“ _You're_ wrong!”

  
“Oh my god, I'm done talking to you!” Thomas declares, Newt going over and lacing their hands. “Can we kick him out?"

  
“No, we love Gally.”

  
“You love Gally." 

  
“That's the breakup talking,” Newt says sympathetically, kissing Thomas knuckles.

  
“This joke is still going?”

  
Newt nods, Frypan, Minho and Winston already setting down for lunch. Gally joins them, Winston nudging him and smiling. Newt and Tommy are the last. The world melts into bliss with mashed potatoes and spatchcock chicken.

  
“I hear back from Harvard next week,” Newt says. “I'm almost done with my MIT portfolio.”

  
They all coo with pride.

  
“We should have a party after your tattoo venture.”

  
“Yes! Oh speaking of- I made the appointment,” he tells Thomas who grins.

"I can't wait.”

  
“You're getting one too?” Gally asks.

  
“To calm his nerves,” Thomas says and they all nod.

  
“You're grown now, man,” Frypan says.

  
“I don't feel grown,” Newt admits.

  
“Accents thick as hell,” Minho says. “Be American please.”

  
“Oh fuck off.”

  
“Watch your mouth,” Frypan mocks. There's a bubble of laughter that fills the air. Their cheers and jeers and pure laughter filling the air, echoing through the abandoned hallways. If boys could be boys, than this was amongst their last filled childhood. If boys were to become men, they'd laugh until the end because as you grow older some of you will find the greatest connectivity of friendship will ground you to a great happiness.

  
\---

  
The woods are a somber quiet. The heart beat of the earth pulses with the occasional bird chirping, the ominous crunch of leaves, the distant crackling of the rushing river, hidden in the bend of the woods. There's a commencement of mourning, or what could have been mourning.

  
Minho sits on the ground. It's time you're told what happened in this spot three years ago. This is the story of the incident.

  
Minho remembers three distinctive texts:

  
I _m not gonna make it._  
I'm going to the woods.  
I'm so sorry. 

  
He thinks if he squints hard enough he can see the blood on the ground. They said it was purely an accident, to everyone but themselves. The pure truth was this: Newt was trying to kill himself. And Minho was horrified to no end. His eyes were looking bleary tears, desperately searching for him. Hoping, praying. He didn't know what Gods miracle was until this day, he doesn't know how high Newt climbed, how hard he fell. All he knew was Newts collar was spliced open, that his leg was mangled, that his body hardly jeered with breath.

  
“Newt? Newt god, No!” He yells, scrambling to type 911, funny how he keeps thinking 911911911 but can't type it so easy. He's shaking. 911 what's your emergency? He splutters incoherent phrases. Friend. Suicide attempt. Blood. Cold. He was cold but it was the snow on the ground. His lips were blue from the snow not because he was dead. It had to be the snow. He remembers suddenly acquiring super strength, carrying Newt to the empty track. Nobody was there. The emergency hotline contacts Janson and he rushes out with the nurse. Minho is sobbing, trying to make sure he's still breathing. They were boys then. 14 almost 15 then. Everything was inexplicably hopeful until that moment. He refuses to believe its the end.  
Now hes 17 going on 18, feeling the dirt beneath his shoes. Newts okay, right? In his office, laughing and smiling and breathing. God he was breathing and thats the only thing he could ask of him. He hardly registers arms wrapping around him, lips pressed to his head.

  
“It's okay… everything is okay.”

  
Thomas was the anchor that kept him grounded. Thomas was the answer to his prayers. He remembers Newt in that bed, liquid pumping into his body. Dear God, I'll give up being the best runner if you just let Newt live. Then Thomas came. Thomas would never fill his heart like Newt but he was pretty damn close.   
He sobs against his beating heart, Thomas going down like that back in November wasn't the same but he pours his tears into Thomas’ bloodstream, gives his whole heart and he keeps thinking of how blue his lips were. How pale he was.   
Thomas squeezes him and Minho cries Niobes tears for the loss of the people he'd yet to lose. He'll never let Newt go. Never never never.

  
\---

  
“I'm proud of you,” Minho finally says, their silence filling up the empty meeting hall. Newt looks up from his papers, eyes tracing Minho before standing up and gesturing for Minho to stand too. He does. He'd do anything for Newt. Newt hugs him, tight to his chest and kissing his shoulder.

  
“You're my hero,” Newt whispers, and this time he's the dam thats cracked, broken hearted tears falling down his face.

  
Minho squeezes him, hugging him close. “You're my best friend… I need you okay?”

  
“I'm not going anywhere, Min…”

  
\--

  
The box was shiny wood and long. Thick enough to hold letters in. Newt stares at it for a long while, and when Thomas comes in, he slowly gets up and puts it back. He's exhausted from crying for hours on end.

"Whats that?"

"nothing."

"you okay?"

  
“I just need to rest…” Newt excuses.

“Just need to sleep. Things will be better in the morning.”

  
Thomas nods, hugging his head, kissing his temple.

  
“I believe you.”

  
\--

  
January 15 was finally here, Newt nervous as he waited in the chair of the tattoo parlor. Frypan was filming.

  
“Ready?” He asks.

  
“As I'll ever be,” Newt says grinning. Thomas was beside him. They decided on a star and Moon that'd create the illusion of fitting together when they held hands, the artists coordinated it, and oh god was it painful but Newt bled a lot less than Thomas and Frypan and Winston cracked jokes the whole way. Newt winced in pain, but laughed after a while at his obnoxious friends. 

  
“Want one too?” The guy asks Frypan.

  
“My mama is from Compton, I come home with a tattoo she'd sell me to the fucking Kings. It'd be over for me. Id be a menace." 

  
“Where's Minho, tellin ya to watch it?” Newt teases, admiring the moon on his wrist. Thomas was getting his blood cleaned.

  
“Motherfucker is bleeding a lot,” the artist complains.

  
“I'm a vampire with too much blood intake,” Thomas teases. The artist grins.

  
“So you've got nothing to lose.”

  
“Not really.”

  
“Does it hurt?”

  
“No its okay.”

  
“What if you two break up.”

  
“At least I got something nice out of this.”

  
They all smile, and Newts letting Frypan draw a heart on him with the sparkly acrylic paint in the shop, his artist laughing as he watches them. Newt goes to wipe hair out of his eyes but ends up stamping his forehead with the paint. Frypan grins. And Newt looks in the mirror and laughs.

  
Frypan laughs too. They're all laughing.

In the car on the way to Brendas they sing at the top of their longs No One by Alicia keys, Newt singing to Frypan as he drives. Winston sings to Thomas. Thomas sings back at Winston. “ _And I kno-oh some people chase the world, to fi-ind something like what we have! Some people fight, try to design something so real, something like what we have oh no one-”_ they belt, windows rolled down, letting the cold cleanse their souls. Their bodies shiver in a refreshing ecstasy, and the warmth of Brenda's house was never so nice.

  
“Happy birthday!” She cheers hugging Newt when he gets there, leading him downstairs where Minho, Gally, Aris, Chuck, Teresa, and Ben waited. Ben didn't live in their dorm but he was their good friend.

  
They all cheered, Thomas, Frypan and Ben following. “Say happy birthday!” Teresa says as she snaps a picture of them. Out of my league bursting from the speakers. The room was dim with lamp light and Christmas lights. There was a big cake decorated to look like Stars Hollow.

  
They cheer, Newt grabbing a beer and Thomas grabbing his waist. He laughs, spinning in his arms, unopened bottle in hand.

  
They kiss at you were more than just a dream. He pulls away and drags him towards the center of the room, the heart still on his forehead. Brenda pops it open with her bracelet, the two dancing together, and as out of my league fades out, tongue tied starts and they turn it up, everyone instantly hollering with the opening.

  
 _Take me to your best friends house_   
Newt spins and finds himself dancing with Winston, Minho and Brenda dancing together, everyone singing at the top of their lungs. Frypan uses Winstons camera and snaps pictures of each of them. Chuck puts on sunglasses on Newt, Newt posing with Thomas at _1 2 3 4_ , kissing then not, then looking as if they've been caught, then laughing.

  
His beer has disappeared from his hands, and he's just dancing. Spinning. Drinking. They're all dancing into Euphoria, the youth pumping their veins. The world spinning between their hands.   
He'd never been so happy to hear the happy birthday song, blowing out his sparklers. He got the fondant Lukes sign. Him and Thomas drunkenly feed each other, kissing between sweet strawberry cake bites. Newt hums happily, it was never ending. It felt never ending. The Christmas lights flicker against his skin, the music pumps through drunk veins. Blissful sleep settles in empty chests late into a drunken evening. 

  
Jorge cleans up after them when he's home much later and smiles, kissing his adopted daughter on her head.

  
\---

  
Newt sits with Minho in the woods, the two staring up at the trees canopies.

  
“A poet once said the healing after the fall is perhaps the most painful thing. So if it hurts we're going in the right direction.”

  
“Are we though?”

  
“I think we are… I'm trying. I am.”

  
“Hey… i carried you once. I'll do it again.”

  
“We'll do it together.”

  
“What brothers do.”

  
They grin but there's a heart broken sadness stuck between them. A longing to forget the bad, the evil, the demon that almost took Newts life.


	20. Kochanie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The book dash/buy finally happens and Newt runs into somebody he wasn't expecting!   
> A little more into the incident early on into the chapter and ends with some newtmas fluff!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this story isn't losing it's charm? As it goes on my writing style is sort of shifting just a bit. This chapter was 11 pages and I'm hoping next chapter will be even longer!   
> Don't forget to leave a comment and tell me what you think!

“What am I missing?” Thomas finally says. “Every year, in January, I feel like I’m missing something, and usually you all get kind of weird but this is different… this year it’s different.”

Newt looks up from where he’s studying on the floor, his dark eyes wide and innocent and sort of painful. “I’ve been… really on edge this year, so I guess… there’s a kind of… I dunno.”

“What?”

“Nothing… Just my depression has been bad.”

“Yeah but it’s been getting better,” Thomas says softly. “What’s the edge for?”

“I know it has been…” He pauses. “I mean… I suppose nobody but Minho really knows what happened, but everybody in the suite sort of just…. Knows.” 

“Knows what?” Thomas asks quietly before he pauses for a moment, face thoughtful. “Newt you can tell me anything, you know that don’t you? Anything, even if it happened in another life and you sound crazy trying to explain it, I’m here for you. To listen to you.” 

Newt nods and his brow furrows with thought. He knows Thomas means what he says. He knows that even as he feels the knife of the demon dig into his chin, as the boa worms it’s why from its nest, that Thomas deserves to know about the incident. “The spring before you came, I… didn’t really understand my  _ condition  _ and so I was in a really bad place. One thing lead to another and I guess it became too much for me. I couldn’t really stand to be alive anymore… you know? I just felt so empty, so lonely… So I went down to the wood and picked the tallest tree I could find and I jumped off it. Minho found me… saved my life,” Newt says, very softly. “Everybody knew it was what happened, Frypan and Winston and Alby… they knew. Nobody talked about it, I was away at a mental institution a couple weeks. They gave me medicine and a therapist and called it a day. I didn’t trust many people after that, hated being home because my parents cooed at me a lot and wouldn’t let me be alone. Stayed at Alby’s house the last few weeks of summer, you know never fit in much there at his place but his family was nice and you could tell his parents knew because they looked at me funny… that cocked head kind of squint, like how can he be so sad so young? Why would he do that? Alby never talked about it to me though. Minho… tried. 

“My therapy session in October… that was the first time we talked about it. Me and him, really talked about it. To each other. I know it really… hurts him and I hate that I’d done that to him but I guess everyone sort of just remembers that I could be dead and things were really bad for a while and there was…. Unspoken  _ fear  _ I guess that I was going to snap again.”

Thomas shifts and sits on the floor beside him. He kisses Newt’s temple and Newt folds into him, lacing hands and holding Thomas’ own to his chest. “Don’t cry…”

“I’m so sorry,” he whispers, resting his head in the crook of Thomas’ neck and he tries to hold the tears but he can’t and Thomas holds him. 

“You have nothing to be sorry for.”

“I feel so  _ terrible  _ and selfish everytime I think that way.”

“No… no don't feel that way. You are  _ strong  _ and you- you're overcoming all these bad things. Okay? You're doing great, Newt. It's not selfish. It's not wrong…”

Newt nods, he keeps his fears inside, even as Thomas kisses him and pulls him close. He wipes his tears. “You'll be okay Sammy.”

Newt keeps hearing it but he can't believe it sometimes. How do you know when you're okay?

\---

“Concert is soon,” Teresa says. “May,” she tells him and he nods. He was excited, for the concert they were going to together. He smiles awkwardly as Alby sets some books down on their table. They nod at each other in passing and no, nothing was really fixed, but it’s better to pretend than to go on fighting. It’s sort of like they divorced, when all the love is lost and the connection was just fragments on the floor… well at least they could pretend by smiling at each other. 

“These belong here,” He says and Newt nods. The book buy was in a few hours, and they were setting up. Signs and books and records, all through the gym glistening with gloss floors and skylights that let light stream in and that blinding white light from the bulbs up above that almost cancel out the sunlight streaming in. Newt thinks that really it should look beautiful, but it looks too much like America and school spirit to hold beauty. 

“Thanks,” Newt says to Alby before returning to his conversation with Teresa. “It is, I’m  _ so  _ ready. Although I’m not sure what to wear,” he says.

“We can coordinate.”

“Yes! Flowers or something.”

Teresa nods. “Yellow? You’d look good in yellow.”

“You would too.” 

Newt sifts through the books and sets them up on the table. Alphabetical order. Thomas is helping put up signs and he keeps a watchful eye on him, so does Teresa. It doesn’t really bother him, that she does that, watch him, wait for him in the halls. They were good friends, that was fine. Newt tries not to think too much that they used to be a thing, that she just as easily could have won his heart as Newt did. He was friends with Teresa, and Teresa hasn’t made any obvious passes on Thomas that would upset him. Maybe in another world, it mattered, but in this one it doesn’t. Not really. Not now. Not until she makes it matter and she hasn’t. 

“He’s okay,” Teresa says after a while.

“Yeah… he feels a lot better too. Lifting and stuff, not that it puts me at any sort of ease but… he’s okay.”

She nods and he nods in return. They work in mostly silence, music coming from one phone or another. Chatter filling the room. They all decide on positions and Newt gives everyone a schedule of rotation so nobody gets too bored. He was starting with just helmsing the area, greeting people, making sure everybody was okay and finding what they needed. Thomas he started on the purchase stand with Minho and Ben. Alby and Aris were on snacks first. Winston and Gally were on records, while Frypan stood at the door to greet. Teresa was also Helmsing. 

Everything was going pretty smooth, and the cake walk was monitored by Ava and Janson, who were having fun with the parents partaking. They were laughing, smiling, getting the cakes they wanted. Each one uniquely delicatbale in it’s own way. 

The Third hour Newt was on the purchase stand when he spotted a familiar head of black hair, and lean figure. He chooses to ignore it though, what’s the chances that he’d end up here? Very, very little. Newt won’t get worked up over nothing but he can’t help it, his eyes are drawn. Not because he’s hopeful but because he’s curious, and well curiosity is what killed the cat but satisfaction is what brought him back. Right? 

“You okay?” Frypan asks. 

“Yeah…” Newt says. “Just thought I saw somebody I knew.”

“Nick said he’d be here,” Frypan says. Nick had been in their dorm until he graduated last year, Aris took his bed. 

“Yeah? He give a time?” Newt says, eyes following the guy. Maybe it was just somebody who looked like him. Right? Thomas was across the room, helping with the Records. The dark hair definitely didn’t belong to him, anyways Thomas’ hair was too messy, this guy had it slicked back, nicely kept, slick clothing, cigarettes back pocket- it couldn’t  _ be _ . But shit it might be. 

“No but Alby said he’d be around.”

“Yeah they were close.”

“Still close.”

Newt nods, eyes smiling as he greeted somebody with a stack of books. He doesn’t look away from them, even though he knows he’s been spotted. “You have a lovely day, Miss,” he says smiling and handing her the stamped bag. 

“Thank you! You too!” she says and Newt is holding his breath. 

“You sure you good man?” Frypan asks after a few minutes, Newts eyes had lost their target but they were search. 

“Yeah, do I look not okay?” 

“You look like you want to jump out of your own skin.”

“I’m okay…”

“You sure?”

“Yeah.”

Give it fifteen minutes. Thomas glances up at Newt who smiles at him but is soon greeted with the guy who’d walked in, much to his suspicion it  _ was  _ Nate. Frypan line was full. 

“Hey,” Nate says softly, smiling half heartedly. Newt gives an awkward pressed smile.

“Hey.”

“How have you been?”

“Great! I’ve been- things have been- it’s been good,” he stutters out and Nate nods perplexed. The tension between them was harsh, awkward. It was strange to see Newt so out of his element because he’d always been so  _ in  _ his element. Confident, cocky, coy. It was a bit of a power rush that Nate could make him nervous. 

“Good,” Nate says smoothly.

“How’s uni, then?”

“It’s been good,” Nate says. “I’m taking this class I think you’d like.”

“That so?”

“Yeah, maybe we can catch up and I’d tell you all about,” Nate says.

“Yeah we could- sounds nice,” Newt says, flustered as he rings up the books, perhaps charging a couple dollars too much. Nate doesn’t say anything. 

“So…” Nate takes out his wallet and rifles through his cash. “Tonight, your favorite place at 8?”

“What?”

“The coffee place with the art and that one booth?” 

_ Their booth.  _ Shit. “Oh! Oh… uhm…”

“You’re not busy or anything right?”

“No- I mean- Yes- No! I just… 8 is fine,” he says, Frypan giving him a sideways glance. He fumbles as he puts Nate’s stuff in a bag.

“Yeah?” Nate asks, a coy smile dancing on his features. “You sure?”

“Sure, yeah. I’m not… I mean… It works.”

“Okay, as long as it’s good with you babe.”

“Not your babe,” Newt bites, the first comprehensible thing he’s gotten out the entire interaction. 

“Course not. See you at 8.”

“Yeah, 8.”

Nate walks away and Newt wants to  _ die _ . “What in the name of hell was that?” Frypan whispers as he passes by for more of the stamping ink. 

“I’ll explain later,” Newt says. “I think I’m in trouble.”

Frypan nods and his next duty is Records with Minho, he’s never been so relieved. Nate is still there, socializing, catching up. He keeps glancing over at him. 

“Where’s Tommy?” Newt asks.

“Snacks where you put him,” Minho says, glancing at him as they refill the record bins. “Why?”

“I did a stupid thing.”

“What did you do?”

“So… you know Nate Grazier?”

“Hottie over there? Yeah, everyone knows him.”

“I dated him.”

“You what?”

“Dated him.”

“And…?”

“Didn’t work out too well.”

“Right…”

“He came over.”

“Where?”

“The checkout. I mean he was buying things so like, it makes sense you know? But like he asked me to catch up.”

“So?”

“At the coffee place we went to, in our booth.”

“And?”

“I agreed like a fucking imbecile.”

“Shit man.”

“I can’t tell him I’m dating Tommy but I dunno, I want to be near him. Reassurance or something.”

“Why can’t you tell him?”

“A lot of the time when we fought he’d say well he can be close to other people because I was all over Tommy and I mean, okay I was not about to tell my boyfriend I’d rather be kissing one of my best friends, so I always said we were just friends, would always be best friends. I mean I was in a lot of denial too… I didn’t ever  _ think  _ Thomas would like me back…”

“And now you’re dating.”

“And now we’re dating. Nate would clock him.”

“He’s gotta be over you?”

“He used to tell me we were  _ it _ . Made for each other. Which is stupid, I just liked him because he was fun at the time,” Newt says. They’re speaking in low voices as they work the area. Cleaning up and such. “I’ve moved on to bigger and better things if you know what I mean.”

Minho snorts. “If Thomas is  _ bigger  _ I guess.”

“He  _ is _ . That’s besides the point.”

“So what, you think he’s still like in love with you or something?”

“I mean I was a total fucking idiot in front of him, but I was just off guard. You know? So like, whatever I guess, but now he thinks I’ve bit the bait or whatever that phrase is.”

“So are you going?”

“To the coffee place? I mean I can’t not go he knows where our suite is. I’m not looking for any sort of reckoning.”

“I could go with you. Linger around in case it gets out of hand.”

“Would you?”

“Your paying for my drink though.”

“Fair.” 

“Are you going to tell Thomas?”

“I dunno… probably. I mean, what if he gets upset?”

“You don't have bad intentions.”

“Not at all but.. maybe Nate  _ does _ .”

“You wouldn't let him get anywhere and if he does anything and you need help, I'll be there to step in.”

“Okay fair.”

Newt nods, the nerves clustering in his blood. Building as time goes on. Slowly he anticipates all different situations. It’s like the walls were crumbling, the dam opening to all the possibilities of wrong and horrible that could happen. What if Nate tried to kiss him? What if he wanted him? Is this a date? An agreement? He doesn't know, and God he hates that Nate looks  _ good _ . As good as he remembers. He hates that Nate is getting under his skin. Thomas touches his arm and, startled, Newt grabs at Tommy a little too hard. 

“ _ Shit,  _ you scared me.”

“You okay?”

Newt wants to just word vomit his every thought to Thomas, something he's never wanted to do for Nate. He shrugs, holding his forearm, still shaking a little from Thomas sneaking up on him the way he did. “I… uhm…?” 

“Yoooouuu?”

“I'm walking to my grave tonight and then burying myself in it.”

“Uhhhmm? I'm confused.”

“Yeah… no it's okay.”

“What?”

“Forget it.”

“Newt I'm confused.”

“I just… agreed to a thing and it's stupid.”

“What thing?”

“My ex asked me to coffee tonight and Frypan was a horrible friend who didn't pull me out of this situation so I panicked and agreed.”

“So its Frypans fault?” Thomas asks, smiling kinda goofy. 

“No- yes- maybe?”

“Why are you nervous?”

“I just… I dunno. I didn't expect to see him. What if he wants something out of this? What if he tries something?”

“Babe…?”

“Yeah?”

“I trust you.”

Newt nods and he doesn't know Nate is watching when Thomas kisses him, all the worry melts, shoulders dropping. Thomas kisses him deep too, that real love kind of kiss that makes Newt’s brain go static. And yeah, okay, Nate looked  _ good  _ but Thomas always managed to look better, and feel better and- 

“Hey!” Newt complains, pouting as Gally pulls the two apart. 

“You're making a scene.”

“Wasn't dirty,” Newt teases innocently. 

“Go back to your work,” Gally retorts.

“ _ Jealous _ ?”

“He's _ my _ boyfriend after all.”

Thomas snorts. “Okay.”

“I am.”

“Right and I'm the king,” Newt says, leaning in Thomas’ arm, Thomas hugging him by the waist. They're swaying slightly, the three grinning. Newt kisses Thomas cheek, head on his shoulder.

“Oo you jealous now?” Gally asks, grinning. He was glad that his friends could be comfortable, but also people were staring and there was no need for anybody to get into a fuss about anything- lest it be told to Mr. and Mrs. Newton. 

“Yeah totally,” Newt says rolling his eyes before pecking Thomas lovingly and going back to his station. Thomas does too. There was only a few hours left and inventory was dwindling. Alby was talking to Nick and they kept looking over at Newt. He’s not really in the mood to find out why.

\---

“So you’re out,” Is the first thing Nate says to him when they settle with drinks. 

“What?”

“You’re out.”

“Sort of…?”

“You kissed him, in front of everyone. That’s not sort of out.”

“I’m not out to my family- wait-”

“Yeah, I saw you kiss him.”

“Don’t be mad,” Newt whispers.

“Not mad, just disappointed I was right. Or that I thought maybe we still had a chance.”

“We don’t have a chance,” Newt says. “God, we never had a chance Nate.”

“Because your heart’s not in it,” Nate says.

“No, don’t put this on me. I mean, you like All Time Low better than My Chemical Romance and like- that’s just wrong!”

“It is not they are so better!”

“No! Not even close.”

“Okay listen, All Time Low made more songs and had a better output than MCR ever did okay? Releasing the same song a million times doesn’t make them good.”

“It’s the heart of the song, Nate. It’s what goes into it.”

“It’s just an okay song.”

“Take that back it’s a good song!”

“See? We’re fighting like a married couple, doesn’t that mean something to you?”

“It means… you have bad music taste.”

“You don’t really like him do you?”

“I do but that doesn’t mean I didn’t like you when we were together…” Newt stops Nate before he can retort. “It really doesn’t, Nate. You were my first… real boyfriend and I really, really wanted to love you and be everything you wanted or needed but I couldn’t be that guy, I can’t be that guy. I don’t know who I am in your head but I’m not him. Okay? I’m sorry, I really am, that I couldn’t live up to your image, and that I fell for Thomas but he makes me happy.”

“And I didn’t?”

“You did at the time.”

Nate nods. “Yeah at the time.”

“You really did.”

“You ever tell him about us?”

“I mentioned it.”

“Good or bad things?”

“I don’t really remember.”

Nate nods. “Promise me you’ll tell him something good about me, so nobody gets the idea I treated you wrong.”

“You did.”

“Not most of the time.”

“Your right, most of the time you were a good boyfriend,” Newt agrees. “You treated me nicely, and you listened to me and fed me. You were good.”

“So this is nothing?”

“We’re catching up.”

“Right… i guess we are.”

“I’ll tell him something nice.”

\---

The box was right in front of Thomas, who was more or less half asleep, eyes a little bleary, long lashes drooping in front of whiskey orbs.. “I don’t understand why this can’t wait until the morning.” His voice is raspy in that sleepy way and Newt’s heart soars. 

“Because I want you to understand.”

“Understand what? I told you I trusted you, and I still trust that you didn’t-”

“It’s not like that.”

“Newt… bed please.”

“No this first.”

Thomas sighs and looks at the box. “Fine.”

“He told me that we were meant to be, tonight, before tonight. And I dunno, we talked a lot, but that’s the most I remember talking to him. It was closure.”

“Good.”

“But I need one more thing.”

“And that is?”

“Why we didn’t work.”

“Which is…”

“He thinks All Time Low is better than MCR.”

Thomas looks a lot more awake suddenly, bambi hazel eyes blinking. “He what? You dated a menace who actually thought- does he still think that way?”

“Yes, and then I argued with him, and I must’ve looked cute because he implied I marry him.”

“You always look cute.”

“Beside the point. Everytime I thought I hated him, I wrote it down. A letter or whatever. I wrote it. And then I put everything in this box. Every single time.”

“Seriously?”

“Yes.”

“Do I have any letters?”

“Two.” Newt pauses and his slender fingers follow the ridges of the shiny wood box, and he props it open, revealing it’s content for just a moment, a picture peeking through and Thomas’ bright eyes shine curiously. “I want you to have it.”

“For your closure?”

“Yeah… for closure.” 

Thomas nods and he takes the box and he opens up to look at the picture of Newt kissing… whatever his name was. “I don’t like this one, you can burn this one.”

Newt laughs. Thomas puts it aside. “You burn it, it’s more romantic.”

“More psychotic.”

“Like the movies, psychotic romance.”

“Geez, okay… Letter one. Oh you numbered them,” Thomas says pleased. 

“Don’t read  _ out loud _ . God put voices in our head for a reason and one of them is reading silently.”

“Okay bossypants,” Thomas teases, mostly delirious and tired. Newt tilts his head and kisses him and Thomas grins. He stares at the paper, brows furrowing in a cute sort of manner. He stares a few moments longer, eyes trying to make sense of the words and retain anything he actually reads before he looks up helplessly with big puppy eyes and hands it to Newt. “I’m too tired to read.”

“Oh geez,” Newt says. “Okay we can do this in the morning.”

“Thank god, get in your pajamas so we can cuddle.”

Newt laughs and nods, kissing Thomas once more before he climbs out of bed. He swiftly tosses his shirt, rolls his shoulders for effect. 

“Don’t be coy, I’m too tired,” Tommy protests and Newt grins. He pulls on Thomas’ sweatshirt and his own nike joggers. Then climbs under the blankets, tangling their legs together as he squishes close to his boyfriend.Thomas kisses his head and Newt kisses his chest.

“Sleep well Angel.”

“You too kochanie.”

“Kochanie?”

“Dearest Darling in Polish.”

Newt nods, smiling as he nuzzles into Thomas’ chest. “I like it.”

“Yeah me too…”

\---

The next morning Newt was headed down to get breakfast with Minho when he almost ran into Nick and…  _ Nate.  _ (of course)

“I’m leaving in a few hours,” Nate excuses.

“Be safe,” Newt says, he can’t help it. 

“Yeah, I will be.”

“MCR rules,” He says. 

“All Time Low will always be better.”

Newt laughs and before he could move Nate leaves him with a small peck to the lips. Newt is perplexed and perhaps hurt, he blinks but squints at Nate. “Just my goodbye to you.”

“Yeah okay, well… we’re done.”

“You’re sure?”

“Positive.”

Newt and Minho sit down and he pulls out his journal from his bag. 

_ I hate that you kissed me goodbye because I never wanted to kiss you again.  _ He adds it to the box. It’s the first note Thomas reads.

“When did he kiss you?”

“Before he left. It was a nothing kiss.”

“A nothing kiss.”

“I didn’t kiss back.”

“Are you okay?”

“It was like-” Newt pecks Thomas real quick. “Otherwise he would’ve puked everywhere again.”

“Gross.”

“Totally.”

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’m angry that he did it.”

“Why?”

“Because he wants us to fall apart, he did it to hurt you.”

Thomas softens, pulling Newt in by the elbows. “I’m just… worried about you. Not just because of him, because of everything.”

“Don’t be… we’re going to make it out okay.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah… and hey,” Newt says.

“What?”

Newt kisses him and Thomas laughs before leaning back in to seal their lips. “You get to keep me, even after he kissed me goodbye,” Newt whispers.

“I get to kiss you hello for the rest of our lives, and he can’t take that from me.” Thomas kisses him again, for good measure. “And you’re going to be okay, no matter what. Me and Minho, we’re fighting for you.”

“I love you… and Minho too. We love Minho.”

“Yeah we do.”

They grin and Thomas pulls away. “Letter 1, working our way back to the start-”

“Heeeere we go.”

“I never burned the picture!”

“So burn it.”

“Psychotic, anyways letter one…”

“Okay actually read this time.”

“I am!”

“Don’t go cross eyed.”

“I won't’.”

“Or fall asleep.”

“I’m not.”

Thomas pouts and Newt laughs. The morning sun still reigns down into the bedroom, lighting them up in pale sunlight, sparkling over them with it’s eternally youthful glow. Newt shines in the light, and it felt like even as his heart beat a mile a minute, even if his mind flooded with a sort of sadness and invalidity, his body understood that here he was safe, and here he’d be okay. Even if he felt, perhaps, a little less from his already emotionally exhausting day. 

Newt can’t stop hearing  _ he hates you he hates you he hates you  _ until Thomas looks up again and his brain falters all over again. Newt can’t hear over the white noise formed when they meet eyes, souls pulled taught together by a string. 

“What?”

“Are you paying attention?”

“No I zoned out,” Newt admits.

“Letter one from the top.”

“Dear god, muts you?”

“I must. For closure.”

“God I regret this.”

“No you don’t.”

“I do a little?”

“Liar.”

“Fine, I don’t but you don’t have to start over.”

“I do, I’m going to.”

Newt sighs and nods and Thomas squints. “Pay attention.”

“Listening, promise.”

“Dear Nate…” 


	21. Healing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Newt Learns to Heal through February and March

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know what it is you're going through personally or what you have done for yourself to heal but this chapter is deeply personal to me in the sense that I have done a lot since last January to heal. I cried a lot, I spent a lot of time alone. I was so determined to become bigger than I was and to really strive for myself, because I felt like I was a lot of broken pieces. In some ways I still feel like that. I had to put myself in Newt's shoes, and Newt had to stand in my own, and I had to modify my own methods to fit him. The healing is a long process, I still break sometimes, life can be so overwhelming for me, but I do try to pull through. I do try to keep center and balance, I try to be faithful, I try to be in check with myself. I know that this story has validated so many of you, and I want each and every one of you I know how it feels to stand on the outside ring. I wrote this with all my heart and soul. I put my entire being into this chapter. I held onto my tears, I put in my own personal poetry, I tried to describe the emotions as best as I could. the desperate sinking feeling to just be better, to just be different, it is so hard to vocalize that, so hard to project that and I genuinely hope that you all understand where I am coming from, that this was more than some stunt on healing from Depression. This chapter, more than any other chapter, is deeply personal to me. It took a lot of emotion for me to write, and as I am writing this to you my hands shake with anxiety, my chest is tight. I want you to understand that it does get better, and no you won't always feel great, that yes healing takes long, but we all have our purpose in this life, and that purpose will find you, and you will do something with your life. You are worth living, you are worth healing. You don't have to be stuck, your mental illness doesn't define you, all of you who are such great people. I believe in you and I hope that if anything this gives you some measure of faith. That it gives you a bit of hope, and I hope you walk out understanding the emotion behind it. The emotion I put into it.

Screaming for hours on end but you don’t scream at all. This was the very first part of picking up the pieces of the fall. Your eyes burn holes into the walls and you stare, with dead silence, at the white walls before you. They speak words that you can’t quite comprehend and you know, it’s starts to feel like pretend, this great big sadness. What are you crying for anyways? Don’t you have it all? Get up and fight for yourself. Get up and save yourself. You don’t need the world to _pity_ you.

It was screaming color on the walls, all your burning flaws and all the things you hated about yourself. You could map them. You could trace them. You inherently understood that you were the worst person in this whole wide world. The unjust and the cruel weighed you down, and you didn’t cry enough for the kids who were genuinely in situations worth pity, you didn’t appreciate your parents enough, you were too cocky, you say all the wrong things. You might as well keep your mouth shut. The walls are painted in it, the red, blaring remarks. Terrible, awful, person.

Deep breath, slow exhale, tilt your head up. Breathe out slowly. Your eyes sting with tears, you heart is breaking in your own chest. _Get it together. It doesn’t matter._ You grip the pillow and scream all your fears into it. Silent, silent tears with your whole being begging you to run, to claw its way out. What good was a body you hated anyways? What good was this life when all you are is nothing? _Get it together Sam. Get it together Sam._ Deep breath, slow exhale- except you sob instead and are you so fucking serious? It doesn’t matter. Nothing in your head matters. It’s stupid. It’s nothing.

Hand in hair, palm against your forehead, breathe deep, exhale fast. Don’t throw yourself like that, breathe deep exhale fast. You try to slow your breath but it’s all worthless and you just want to get better. How do you get better? What is better? Where is better?

You claw at your stomach through your shirt, soft quiet sobs leaving your throat as you fall back against the bed, pillow on your chest as you rock into your forearms, weep until you fall asleep. There was a panic in your chest. You couldn’t stop. You just want it to get better. The walls are whispering that you are tethered to your sadness, the world never shows any sympathy to boys who fall short of the trees. You are, in fact, nothing to this world. So how is you become something in the face of nothing?

Get it together Sam.

Determined to prove the world wrong in it’s exertions your blood boils, body sings. All you see is red, red, red. There was red on the walls, there was red in your eyes. Your battle cry was the anger in your blood, simmering in your veins, clasping you by the throat so you couldn’t breathe. There is a bite in your stomach, a give in your brain. The whole world is telling you no, so tell it yes. Tell it you can! Can’t you? Well that’s what you think. So tell me how you plan to conquer when the world is so cruel? What are you crying for anyways?

Get it together. Prove your worth. You are stronger this. You are stronger than whatever is hurting you. Do you know what hurts? People have it worse you know. People have it worse. There are houses burning, people dying. ( _Bury me bury me bury me)_ where are you going to go in this world? There is nothing for people who can’t fight and have you ever been anything less than a warrior? Get up, get up and fight for yourself. Nobody cares enough to fight for you. Nobody cares enough to love you enough to fight for you. Not Thomas, not Minho. Get up and fight for yourself. Finish that application. You can do it, you can make it out. Who are you to stop yourself? You’re not weak, stop being **weak** and get up. Tomorrow we are going to do better. Tomorrow we are going to do better. Tomorrow we are going to do better.

\---

The voices in his head were so cruel, and he stares at the purple sunrise as he sips at the coffee in his mug. The world was sinking from under his fingers, nose red from crying not the cold, eyes puffy. His nose was stuffy and he takes another tissue from the tissue box beside to wipe his nose again. His breaths come stuttered, getting stuck as they climb the path to his throat. His lips can’t seem to press together, then he might suffocate. He is the purple haze misery, the world around him all asleep.

Newt stares at the sky, the beauty that befell him. The blanket on his shoulders kept him warm from the worlds cold, and the sun dipped up slowly. He doesn’t really think anybody realizes he was gone. He hears Thomas leave to do his morning aerobics, since he was starting again slowly, he hears the shower turn on from the window, he hears chatter. He just sits there, staring. He doesn’t want to go back inside. Not now, not ever. It wasn’t the kind of violent that woke everyone up, it was the internal self hatred, the screaming inside your own lungs, the voices in your head, silent, silent tears.

It’s almost 7.15 when he finally gets up. He trudges to the shower, opens up the water, and strips. Everyone would leave the house soon anyways. His skin feels cold, as he runs his hands up his arms, goosebumps waking there. His eyes feel heavy, his body tired. He steps in, and he draws the curtain shut. He just stands there, rubbing his arms, the water is too hot but only because his body is too cold and he is too tired to flinch or move away. He feels too numb.

“What are you doing?” Minho asks, popping his head in. “We have to leave soon.”

“You go on ahead, I’ll be there on time, I promise.”

“You okay?”

“Yeah… Yeah I’m okay.” Newt shifted, glad that Minho couldn’t see him, or see how upset he was. Minho would never leave his side. “Just feeling a little sick.” From crying all night but that’s besides the point. Minho seems to accept this and he shuts the door. He leaves Newt in solitude, left to the rushing water on his back, streaming through his hair. The whole world falls to peace and silence, nothing but the rushing water, the sunlight that streams in, the blue cast of the shadows drawn on by the walls. He was boxed in, trapped, but there’s a sort of safety in that.

The itch to flee his own body was strong and part of him doesn’t even really feel attached to his own body. It was like an urgency, to go somewhere far away, an urgency to detach his mind and body. To find a new body, a better body. In a way he felt like his mind and body were two separate beings. He grips his own arms, head tilting back, neck exposed to the shower and he grounds to reality. The urge to run claws his stomach still, it was a strong itch and he inhales deep, trying not to sob again. His mouth fills with water as he does and everything feels a lot like nothing. Everything feels empty, and hazed. His mind is swimming but no thoughts come through.

It was a lot like staring at a purple vacancy sign, in some vegas parking lot, the desert winds around you and all you could do was stare it as it flickers neon purple at you. Vacancy. Vacancy. Vacancy. There was nothing, just the feeling of swimming in your own liquid blood and fluid, just the feeling of numb, just the feeling of empty, half there and half gone. Half torn and half put together. He felt a lot like broken glass, glistening and fucked and painful. Never to be put together the same. Never fit like he used to, always cracked, always taped, always held together by glue- and how was it that he needed glue when he was the glue of his friend group? Vacancy rang through his head as the thought fled. Vacancy. Vacancy. Vacancy. Flickered neon purple even if it was bright outside.  

He hears the door open and his eyes lazily flick open, just waiting to see what whoever it was would do or say, he just listens, closing his eyes.

“You sleeping in there?”

It was Thomas and Newt isn’t sure if he can speak.

“I’m breathing,” He says. “It’s nice to just breathe sometimes. You know, without people interrupting you, when you’re in the shower.”

“Oh stop, I’ve seen you naked before.”

“So?”

“So, I’m just putting clothes and a towel for you. You never shower so late.”

“Just needed it,” Newt admits and Thomas propers the curtain open, raising a brow. “Out please.”

“You want coffee for first period?”

“I’d love you forever and a day babe.”

Thomas kisses the base of Newt’s throat, causing his breath to hitch before he’s leaving. He washes his skin, and shampoos his hair, conditions it before blow drying it and pulling on the ridiculously cute outfit Thomas picked out for him. It was his yellow shirt that said _Sunny Wherever Love Is_ with his light wash jeans and Thomas’ light wash jean jacket. He gets to class just before the bell rings, Thomas having left a to go mug of coffee on his desk with a bagel in a bag. He smiles sweetly at his boyfriend who blows a kiss teasingly.

His track friend rolls his eyes and nudges him, Thomas giving him his attention again. Newt takes the bagel and bites into it. The teacher doesn’t really care, doesn’t even question it and starts teaching after the pledge. Newt can’t bring himself to focus but he puts on a brave face for the day. He does what he has to do.

_( Stop being weak and get up. Get it together Sam. )_

\---

A cup of tea on the table, and you just watch the steam rise up over the rim. Your eyes are puffy, and your heart rate is slowly decelerating. Nobody is home and you’re glad. Newt takes the cup of tea and sits on the couch, he puts on the Netflix and starts up Gilmore Girls. He found home in a little town named Stars Hollow and at least it would distract him from his thoughts. He sips at the tea, he lets it burn his tongue, his throat. The warmth is supposed to help building a fire or a passion in your blood but it just burns. That’s all it does. It builds a fire, it doesn’t spark a flame. They were two separate things.

He doesn’t think at all, as he calms from his breakdown, but also his head won’t stop buzzing with know nothing syllables and endless emotions. How is it you can just _think_ emotions? Newt sighs, numbness taking over as he emptily watches the show. He sips the tea and well, god he prefers his coffee with a shot of cynicism, he also hates tea.

\---

Being alone is better than anything else.  Just you get to breathe, for a simple moment, you sit on your bed, head melting into the pillow and you breathe. Breathe slow and you think that for a moment you can just be. Your thoughts well in your chest and you exhale slowly. Newt gets up and grabs his cigarettes, opening the window.

Thomas comes in, sneaks up behind him and kisses his shoulder. The door is perched open just a bit.

Little things that make you feel better. Inhale the smoke, exhale. Sometimes you just have to breathe.

“You’ve been quiet all day.”

“I just… been thinking.”

“About what?”

“I’m not so sure… I’ll get back to you when I know.”

“Okay babe…”

Newt huffs out smoke, slow and steady, as the sky shifts in it’s colors and it’s funny how you can feel a lot like the hues of blue and pink and orange. How they touch your soul so deeply, you just connect with the colors of the sky in a way that nobody else would understand- or maybe they would but nobody talks about it. How they feel when they look at the sky. It’s all just an illusion anyways.

\---

Thomas leaves to the gym at 5 AM and Newt gets up too. He stretches and puts on a yoga instructional. Yoga is supposed to help isn’t it? Recenter your whole being. It starts with a guided meditation. _Lie on your back, and clear your mind. Don’t let it wander, just focus on your breathing. Inhale slowly, hold it, and then exhale._ He does, in the silence of the ongoing video, just breathing, trying not to think. His body sinks into the ground, melting into the carpet, digging into the earth and his eyes flutter to watch the darkness on the ceiling and for a moment he feels like crying, his eyes flutter shut and he feels like he’s falling through the earth. _Now at the sound of the bell what is the first thing you recognize feeling?_

 **_Panic._ ** Newt thinks, because he feels like he is falling through the earth and he is being swallowed by the darkness. But all this meditation is over soon and he’s re-centering, supposedly. He follows the motions of the instructor of a slow morning yoga and ends in child's pose just as Thomas comes back in.

“What are you doing?”

“Yoga,” he says, too lazy to move from the floor.

“Yeah?”

He rolls up slowly. “It's supposed to be… helpful for recentering your emotions and understanding your inner self.”

“Is it helping?”

“I dunno, I just started doing it today.”

It was 6.15, it’d been over an hour now. Thomas nods understandingly, or with the facade of understanding and sits next to Newt. “You want me to do it with you?”

Newt shrugs. “I dunno… are you going to be stupid about it?”

Thomas grins. “I’ll try not to be.”

“Maybe once I get the hang of it,” Newt says, leaning forward and kissing him. Thomas leans into it but before he can get to close Newt pushes him away. “You’re sweaty, go shower.”

“Last kiss?”

Newt nods, kissing him quick. His heart goes wild in his chest.

\---

_Stronger than this. You are stronger than this. We’re going to make it out alive._

Newt’s head hits the shower wall and he sobs. Everything feels like it’s slipping through his fingers.He can’t control it, he can’t control anything. Everything hurts. Everything burns. There is an urgent fight in your bones to flee, the inside of your body pushes against the skin. You don’t feel real anymore. You just want it to be over.

Newt presses the back of his hand to his head and his shoulders sag in defeat but those who are willing to fight won’t ever be defeated for long.

\---

“Hey, you’re the class president right?”

“Yeah that’s me,” Newt says, looking at the boy who was beside him now.

“I’m AJ Kurtz, I’m a junior I’m new.”

“Hi AJ, I’m Newt,” he says smiling.

“I just… thought maybe you’d be a good place to start for friends.”

“You want to be friends?” Newt asks surprised.

“Yeah, I asked who you were and somebody told me you were the class president. But I honestly just liked your _Panic!_ Sweatshirt.”

“Oh…” Newt says before smiling. “I went to their concert last year, I’m going to see Paramore soon.”

“Really? That’s so exciting. My parents never really let me go to those things.”

“Oh trust me, mine wouldn’t either if they knew but they’re a whole ocean away so it’s not like it matters.”

That makes him laugh and Newt laughs too. “Come sit with us.”

“Us?”

“Me and my friends. They’d like you. My boyfriend especially, I mean tommy is a wild card sometimes but I definitely think you’d be good friends.”

“Well I can’t wait to meet him.”

Newt nods and they share a knowing smile, grabbing lunch and Newt leads him to sit down.

\---

February 14, and Newt is leaning on the console hands laced with Thomas as he drives. “Isn’t it beautiful?” he whispers, head tilting to look up at Thomas.

“What?”

“The earth.”

Thomas blinks but he nods. “Yeah it is…”

Newt lifts his hand and pressing a kiss to his knuckles, a long pressing kiss. “I’ve been thinking a lot… about how to get better.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah…”

“Like the yoga…”

“Yeah, like the yoga.”

“We should do a spa day sometime. My cousin Marie says the best thing you can do for yourself is a few face masks while listening to an audio book.”

Newt laughs. “Yeah… we totally could, but only because I want to see you with a face mask.”

“What? I’d look cute.”

“Probably,” newt agrees. He glances outside at the passing feels and everything is empty, lonely. The houses have lights on but it doesn’t seem like anybody is home. Occupations of lights in houses where ghosts reside. Funny how every person lives a life of their own, goes through a whole bout of things on their own. But on the outside they’re just ghosts.

They reach a nice restaurant and Newt and Thomas can’t stop talking. Everything is funny, and everything is sweet and they share a big plate together, feeding each other occasionally and they hold hands. Their tattoos interlock when they do, The star to his moon.

It was nice, just them. They check into a small inn, get a cheap room and just collapse into breath. Each kiss was a breath in, their bodies swayed with each other. Newt breaths in, Thomas exhales, Newt leans up for a kiss, Thomas leans down.

“I want to take care of you tonight.”

“That’s awfully brave,” Newt teases.

“Let me have it.”

“Technically I’m gonna get it.”

“ _Dirty_.”

Newt grins, kissing his cheek. “Only when our clothes come off.”

And god he doesn’t regret it, the sex is dizzying, his arms splayed on the pillow, lips parted, whispered kisses to his neck, and it’s not like Nate, where it always sort of hurt or it didn’t feel _great_ . No, Newt was encompassed with the passion and the whole room is so _warm_. Everything feels good. Thomas’ kisses were a safe haven, and his arm wrapped tight around his neck. The release is sweet, the release is desperate, they come not exactly together but not exactly apart and it feels like that kind of TV perfect sex, where the love just heats the matress and there’s nice music even if no music is playing.

They feel safe, asleep in each others arms.

And even as Newt watches Thomas fall asleep, petting his messy hair smiling, he feels his heart sort of constrict with that tangible anxiety. He shrugs it off, he just wanted to enjoy the night, no guilt, no anxiety, no pain. He kisses Tommy’s temple, he whispers _I love you._ It doesn’t matter who hears. It’s an open truth, painted on his whole being, glowing in his veins. I love you. I love you. I love you.

\---

Loneliness was a deep, incomprehensible feeling. It sinks in the hollows of your chest as your friends talk and you find nothing to say. Loneliness was the way your whole body felt like an outsider and you smile because you have to but you just don’t fit. You are all alone in this world, with not much to say. You leave, and you walk the length of the building before getting outside. You really wish that somebody would find you. Or that somebody would stop and tell you that you mattered. Nobody ever does. You think that maybe you don’t matter.

Newt sits under a tree and he breathes deep, eyes searching the sky. AJ comes and sits next to him. “You okay?”

“Just feel lonely.”

“You have a whole apartment of friends.”

“Sometimes it just feels like I don’t fit…. I dunno it’s stupid.”

“It’s not stupid,” AJ assures. “I get that feeling.”

Newt nods and they just lay there. Staring at the clouds. AJ leaves eventually and it’s just Newt, lost in their movement. So languid as they drift, but more powerful than he an imagine, faster than his eyes could really process. He melts into the earth and his heart is tattered in pieces.

\---

“Newt?” Frypan says jittery.

“Yeah?” He asks, looking up curious. The rest of the suite was there too. Fry hands him a box. “What is this?”

“Open it,” Thomas whispers.

Newt puts it down and opens it. He gasps, pulling out a harvard acceptance letter, a yale one, under it was princeton, then under that was Kings, then under Kings was Cornell, and Berkeley California and on the very bottom was MIT.

He pulls out the MIT one and Newt collapses, holding the stool as he sobs. “Really?”

Minho nods, grinning as Newt hugs the MIT acceptance. “That’s yours buddy. You accomplished all that.”

Newt puts a hand over his mouth shaking his head. He just can’t believe it. See even his big accomplishments didn’t feel enough and he consistently felt like a failure, like he couldn’t get to where his peers were getting- even if he was the top of the class, the leader of the pack, he felt like a failure. Like he was nothing.

Thomas kneels next to him and rubs his back. “You did it Sammy,” he cooes and Newt laughs, feeling happier than he had in what felt like forever.

“I did it!” He yells, the hand holding the MIT letter shooting up, and Minho pulls him up. “I did it! I did it!” He says and Minho nods. He smacks him with the letter. “Oh my god how am I going to choose?”

“Spring break trip?”

Newt nods urgently. “Spring break trip,” he agrees and Minho pulls him close, their foreheads touching as they grin. Thomas and Frypan pour glasses of soda for everyone and they toast, Newt laughing.

“You’re too smart for us,” Winston says. “Can’t even believe.”

“I didn’t get accepted to Dartmouth.”

“Who cares? MIT loved you.”

“Shit you’re right.”

They laugh and Newt feels the whole world fill his lungs, it was a rain storm that was full of good and plenty. What a wonderful March 1st.

\---

His fingers tap the steering wheel, biting his lip nervously as he drives, far from the town. He passes the old brick buildings, crumbling under their own weight. He passes the fields, he passes the coffee shop. He goes right to the Barnes and Nobles a city away. He walks the columns with the coffee he bought from a shop across the street, his fingers touch the spines of the book.

_Self help diary._

He pays 20 dollars for it, but he thinks maybe it’ll do him good.

\---

He can’t help it, he sinks against the tile of the shower, the water dousing him as he cries. Everything felt overwhelming. What if he still wasn’t good enough, what if he failed in life? Getting in meant nothing if you couldn’t live up to it. Its early morning and the whole world is falling in his arms. How can he be enough? How can he live up to the expectation?

What if he fails? He feels doomed, doomed to falter. Doomed to fail. He doesn’t want to fail. He doesn’t want to falter. He just wants to be better. He wants everything to be better.

\---

_Daily check in:_

_What were 3 things that happened that you felt negatively about? Why did they hurt you?_

_What were 4 things that made you happy?_

_What are 5 things you can do to improve?_

_Right now, how do you feel? Why?_

_Did you eat something? Go eat something._

_Drink water. It’s good for you._

Newt writes beneath his check in, just blurbs about his day, answers to the questions, little self improvement things. Just things that help, things that he thinks are helping. He’s not sure sometimes, he feels like it’s one step forward and two steps back. Like he’s waltzing with his mental health. Dancing was better than standing still in quicksand though.

\---

Minho and him sit and map out spring break. It was 3 weeks, so they had almost a month to go to each school. “So if we start at Harvard, we can drive our way down and then take a cross country trip. It’ll take about 5 days straight driving but we can totally do it, get to California.”

“Or we can take a plane.”

“Yeah no it’s more fun if we drive.”

“Alright, Minho we can drive,” Newt agrees. “We need to work in stops, to eat you know?”

“Right… so let’s each pick a city and decide where to go.”

“Yes,” Newt agrees. “I want to pick first.”

“Go on.”

“From Yale to Princeton is mine,” he decides. “I want to map those stops.”

He puts a post note on that route, and he looks to Minho to pick next. “Then I’ll do Harvard to Yale.”

“I can take from here to Yale,” Winston says and Newt nods.

“I want to dooo, all the way from our drive back up to Cornell into Texas,” Gally decides.

“Then I’ll do Texas to Cali,” Frypan says.

“Wait… we need to rework,” Newt says. “Okay, we should go Harvard, Yale, Kings, Princeton, then back up to upstate New York to see Cornell… then we drive down the way of Texas- or maybe Chicago?”

“Texas,” Gally says. “I wanna go to Texas.”

“Barbecue is good down there,” Frypan agrees.

“Okay, Texas,” Newt agrees. “Then up towards California.”

“So what do you want?” Minho asks.

“I want… Yale to kings.”

“I want to take care of Texas to California,” Thomas says. “I’m from Cali, so it’s only fair.” They all nod in agreement.

“Okay. Gally?”

“Cornell to Texas.”

“Winston was…?”

“Here to Harvard.”

“I’ll still to do Harvard to yale,” Frypan says.

“Min?”

“Kings to Princeton.”

“Since mine is the shortest, I’ll do Princeton to Cornell too.”

“You sure Frypan?”

“Yeah.”

“Then it’s settled.”

They all mark their spots and nod in agreement.

“We leave the last night of school?” Gally suggests.

“Fair,” Newt says. “Makes sense.”

“Gives us extra time,” Thomas agrees. They all nod and Newt smiles soft.

\---

_To Suffer from No Heroes No Heroes by Am E on Amazon_

_Ressentir_

_“To feel inside….”_

_“.... a deep feeling of sadness….”_

_“A…. uhm… feeling of detachment…”_

_“Words of the…. Heart. Like the heart is speaking to you?”_

_“It's… what you are feeling… deep inside.”_

_“Ressentir.”_

 

\---

“J'arrive à le ressentir. It means I can feel it in french, but it’s sort of like… deeper than that,” Newt tells Thomas. “It’s sort of like… empathizing with your own self, your own experience. You just… you feel it in that indescribable way. And It’s not that you don’t feel things that you don’t have words for, just that you can’t explain them.”

“Myśleć o niebieskich migdałach, directly it means to think of blue almonds but the implication is that you are lost in a daydream… or lost in thought, you know? Sort of like… you aren’t there at the moment but you’re somewhere else.”

“I could never pronounce that the way you just did.”

“Mmm maybe if you kiss me you’ll feel how the words form.”

“Smooth motherfucker, you really have your moments, don’t you bruv?”

Thomas laughs. “Use all my best lines on you.”

“Use all your lines on only me.”

“Always.”

And maybe it’s not important but it’s that deep conversation, that willingness to tell people things, to have somebody to talk to that keeps you grounded. Newt laces Thomas’ hand and he feels safe, in the company of somebody who understands. Somebody who just listens, who just knows what he means and what he needs. It’s safety in a friend. Safety in a lover. Safety in the better things that life has to give.

They kiss and Newt can't stop thinking J'arrive a le ressentir. He just can feel it, that deep, inner connection between him and Thomas. Others would say it's stupid but it was there, and he couldn't quite place what it was but it clung to him, and he grips Tommy's shirt, kissing him deeper. It's almost like they can't breathe without each other, that somehow they're intertwined. Newt likes that with Thomas he doesn't feel any loneliness, that his whole body feels full with good feelings, and a spark that bound them by their souls.

\---

The sunlight filters through the purple clouds and Newt lets it dip over his leg as he raises it, in a harder position of downward dog, and then he eases into a forward lunge and eases up into a strong warrior pose, breathing slowly. The world melting between each breath. It was hard to explain, how even when he’s not directly connected to the earth he feels a sort of spiritual awakening. His soul feels like it’s made a home, and the boa perches on his ribs appreciatively. He breathes slowly, the toxins exhaling each time.

Bad old air leaves and is replaced with the morning dew. He slowly stretches backwards, his left arm, which was behind him resting on the mat as his right arm stretched forward. It was natural, natural movement, natural to breathe. Solidarity comes when you can breathe easy, because breathing is the most human thing you could do and isn’t it amazing? That we just breathe? That our hearts just beat?

He feels purple like the sky, kissed lilac in his bones, his throat is a tender baby blue, his veins are the soft cotton candy pink, his whole body gleams lilac purple as he recenters at warriors pose and eventually makes his way back down to child's pose.

His head rests on the floor, and he just feels the blood in his veins. Being alive was pumping blood, being alive was a beating heart, tender legs that carried you. He laughs and he knows that maybe he was not better yet but he could be. Things could get better for him. Things could be okay, and his heart feels like it’s become a bird, that it’s wings spread and flew, and he feels like the world is weightless. That he was no longer finite but infinite and yes, all things end, and the world always finds a way to meet in the middle, but if nothing good ever lasts forever, nothing bad does either and it was going to be okay. For the first time in almost 3 years, Newt believes it. He believes that it will be okay.


	22. Kaizen and Breathe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thomas is learning to deal with the aftermath of his accident, and in the wake of it, he finds a lot of pent up emotion. You don't have to be mentally ill to struggle, and that's okay. The victory is just as astonishing, ghosts are ghosts and pain is pain, no matter the suffering. But pain subsides, and Ghosts disappear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PLEASE! READ THE NOTE AT THE END! it is really important to me.   
> Sorry for disappearing! I explain in my end note, I love you all very much!  
> I missed you guys! I did! How's it going, on your sides of the world? Anything new? Any boyfriends or girlfriends? Crushes maybe? How are you guys feeling? (Good I hope? Or maybe just better than yesterday and that's okay!)   
> Catch me up on your lives a little bit, feel free to message me at waldenbeckboys.tumblr.com   
> I'll be around, or comment it below with your thoughts on the chapter. I'm here, and thank you for being here. This is our house, and I'm sorry for being not home for a while. I'm back, I promise!

Having Newt around was something of a holy experience. Newt was… well…  _ everything  _ and Thomas so often felt like nothing. Like he meant very little. In the grand scheme of things, he was a generally content person but he couldn't shake the simple facts about himself. Thomas just wasn't a people person. Ever since he was a child, his brother stood out- loud and bold- while he wavered in the background against the wallpaper. He was tethered to simply meaning nothing. He didn't matter too much to anyone, he was barely likable. He'd never really ever had people who were his own or preferred him first. 

“I’ve never really had a best friend,” Thomas admits to Newt as they lounge on Newts bed for once, studying together. 

Newt looks up with a furrowed brow, a confused smile. His look begs the question  _ where did this come from?  _ And well, Thomas could name a few places. As much as Newt struggled, Newt was kind and chatty and lovable. Everybody fell in  _ love  _ with Samuel Dimitri Newton, because he was amazing. He deserved it. Yet Thomas just feels this yearning coil in his gut, even as Newt looks at him baffled, to be an ounce as likable as Newt. 

“I’m your best friend,” He says. 

“Yeah but like… your best friend can’t  _ also  _ be your boyfriend.”

“And why not? Great relationships are founded on friendship, aren’t they?” 

“Yeah but like… you have me  _ and _ a best friend.”

“Yeah but Minho is your best friend too. It’s like… the three of us. Besides, I tell you  _ everything _ . No disregards.”

“I guess…” Thomas says, nodding and Newt laces their hands, kissing his knuckles. 

“Would you prefer we broke up, just be friends?” Newt teases.

“I’d really see Lorde’s new album from a different perspective… Can we try it for like the span of the album?”

Newt snorts. “I think that’s out of range, actually.”

Thomas laughs, nodding. “Fair enough,” he whispers before placing a small kiss on Newt’s lips. Newt smiles softly, and Thomas melts. He was grateful, to have Newt in his life. To have somebody who loved him, who paid him full attention. It filled his lungs with a certain air, it felt special to anything else, but sometimes, you need more than one person. Though, finding people who genuinely love you, who you open up to without much fear is really, really hard. Its exhausting to give your whole self and go unrewarded, exhausting to find people who like talking to you and stand beside you, even at your low points. 

There’s friends, and friends are friends. You talk and you have fun, and everything sort of works itself out, you don’t really think about it all the time, you can be apart and come together and it’s just sort of there. Then there are best friends, people who catch you when you fall. They’re netting, the parachute that catches you, the water to your fire. They care whole heart about you, they give you full being. Finding best friends is the hardest thing. Finding best friends who really do last is unpredictable, wild, fun, heartbreaking. Losing a best friend is as horrible as a breakup.

If he lost Newt, he would have nobody, really. Thomas is certain of that. Ever since he got here, he wound up with Newt, beside Newt. Even when Newt didn’t really like him. They always spoke. They opened up to each other. Thomas found comfort in thin arms, a sweet smile, messy blonde hair that was splayed on his red pillows after a night curled up, usually in a ball, under his big comforters. Thomas knew, or thought he knew, just about everything about Newt. And Newt knew just about everything about him. Well… almost. He hadn’t really told Newt about his dad, or what happened with his mother, when he was younger. That was one of those thing he could never really get out. 

“Are you okay?” Newt asks after a few moments of silence. “You seem upset.. What’s going on in your head?”

“Nothing,” Thomas mumbles.

“You’re a bad liar, you know that don’t you?”

“Sure, I just… I’m having an internal moment, you know?”

Newt nods and his head tilts, Thomas understands that Newt is trying to be ultra perceptive, read into his thoughts, a lot like he himself is. Just that, Newt's bad at it usually. He's perceptive, but not in the way Tommy (usually) is. “You don’t want to talk about it?”

“Not really, it’s stupid.”

“If it’s upsetting you-”

“Please, Sammy? Can we just drop this?”

Newt sighs, disappointed he can’t help. “Sure but I’ll be right here.”

Thomas nods and he’s grateful, has he mentioned that yet? He’s so grateful to have Newt. He really is. But sometimes it’s better to keep your turmoil inside. That’s how Thomas was, it was like a shield. 

\---

Sitting with Alby is kind of awkward, now. Though they’re alone on the bleachers during gym, watching the others run. He was allowed to run now, but the two were timing. “So… I’m sorry I didn’t show up, that night,” Alby says.

“It’s okay. We never were very close anyways.”

“Yeah but… you’re important to Newt… I should’ve been there.”

“Do you still care about Newt?” Thomas asks, looking at him sincerely, glancing at the kids who were still at the first bend of the track. He considers that their running pace is his jogging pace, and well, it’s not his place to judge them. At all. 

“I never stopped… I guess I just fell into a different kind of crowd.”

“You really let him down.”

“I know… you think I don’t know? I watched him deteriorate and I didn’t know how to stop it. Minho just seemed to get it, I let Minho handle what he knew.”

“Minho doesn’t know shit except that Newt needed him.”

“Listen, I’m really sorry.”

“I believe you. I just… I don’t think sorry is enough to get back on our side.”

Alby doesn’t argue, in fact it’s just a thick silence between them.

\---

Gally of all people was the person Thomas decided to hang out with. All they ever really did was fight, but today, since nobody else was around, they were going to the new outlet mall some ways away. Together. In the same car. With each other. For a whole day. 

“So… what do you think of AJ?”

“He’s nice,” Thomas says. “Why?”

“I don’t know, he just started showing up.”

“He and Newt really get along it makes sense.” 

“And you really don't care about that?”

“About what?”

“Him and Newt getting along.”

“Oh… I don’t know, why would I care about that?”

“They just spend a lot of time together, and you know- he’s always around now because of Newt.”

“And Newt like hardly spends a moment without me, and if he isn’t, he tells me everything. I mean I’m pretty sure my phone is buzzing in my pocket because he just snapchatted me six times, probably because he’s bored at work or Brenda is there with him. I don’t want to be clingy or annoying or whatever. He can talk to whoever he wants.”

“You say that like he’s not mad over you, asshole.”

“What?”

“What’s with you lately?”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s like you’re a greenie all over again, being all quiet.”

“Is that why you’re taking me out?”

“You’ve been off, I want you to feel better.”

“You literally just implied that Newt might be  _ cheating  _ on me.”

“No, I implied you were jealous, and therefore drawing away from us. You assumed that I meant he was cheating. What does that say about you?”

“That I think you always have bad intentions?”

“You know, just because Newt is depressed, doesn’t mean you can’t talk to us, right? So you’re not one step closer to suicide or anything but… your problems matter too,” Gally says, stopping at a light. He looks to Thomas with sincerity and his voice has never dripped so sweet with sincerity. “Don’t be a stupid fuck, what’s going on with you?”

That was a lot more like Gally, Thomas notes, and he sits back and shrugs. “Nothing, I dunno… just thinking a lot.” 

“Thinking a lot?” 

“About… I dunno… he’s perfect.”

“Who?”

“Newt. Like, okay he’s depressed but he’s a  _ genius _ , valedictorian, school council president, highly rewarded, loved by everyone… And I’m not jealous, he deserves all that, he does, but I’m not likable like him, and yeah I’m smart but not smart like him. I don’t gravitate towards people, I can’t give big speeches, I don’t really know what I want to do, I haven’t even committed to a college yet. He got into every Ivy league  _ and  _ MIT, you all got into these amazing places, and I was weight listed for two schools, and denied for a few more, and let into 3 Ivy’s. I’m not extraordinary, or great, and I’ve never been anybody's first choice-” Thomas sighs and slumps into the chair, face kinda worked up in anger. “I just… I worked as hard as  _ everybody _ else. Harder maybe.”

Gally looks sympathetic as he keeps driving, glancing over. “Shit man, you know we all care about you right?”

“Yeah but none of you look at me and pick me first.”

“Depends on the situation. We all… function that way.”

“Do we?”

“We do, and don’t get in your head we’ve all paired off. I mean if anything, you’re paired off with Newt, and I can’t imagine Minho always feels great about being left in the dust by you two because your lovers now- and don’t say you don’t, all those dates? He stays home for those, when he used to be out with you two every time you went out. Things changed between you guys, and he’s struggling too. We all struggle with that.”

“Yeah I guess.”

“You are… the rock of this group, Thomas.”

“What?”

“You do things a lot of us would never do. You ran a whole race before your appendix exploded and got  _ first place _ . What about all those non Ivy Leagues that gave you money? Think of those places. You probably got into more schools with your scholarships just from that race alone than any of us. Don’t you think?”

Thomas nods. “Yeah… your right there.”

“You don’t need a fancy school to prove yourself. You don’t need a lot of friends, or… I don’t know, more than you have, to prove anything. We all just want to get by, and if we get by with enough to be happy… well isn’t that just enough?”

“Don’t miss the turn,” Thomas says, sounding a lot like Newt for a moment. 

Gally laughs softly, under his breath at that. “Sure thing, Mr. Newton.”

“What?”

“Like an old married couple, you two. You sound  _ just  _ like him sometimes.”

“I do not!”

“You do. See? Crazy about each other. Don’t be tampered. Besides, in college you’ll make plenty of friends that are yours that aren’t his too.”

“And they’ll probably all like him more.”

“I mean, if they like you, they probably have bad taste in people, so I doubt it.”

“You do realize you invited  _ me  _ out, right? You basically kidnapped me.”

“I did not kidnap you!”

“You basically did. I should get you arrested for being so rude. First you kidnap me, and then you insult my personality!  **Unbelievable** .”

“You’re so dramatic!”

“Me dramatic? What about you? You’re dramatic!”

“I am not dramatic, if you just took a moment to hear the shit that came out of your mouth-”

“Ohhh my god, you are not about to go there-”

“Yes I am, are you ready because I have a list.”

“A list? You know what? I want that list. Give me that list. Go on.”

“I will, I’m gonna-!”

“I don’t hear it you fucking liar!” 

“Who are you calling a liar? I am not lying there is an extensive list that I have of dumb shit that has left your mouth in the most dramatic fashion-”

“So let me _ hear _ it!” 

“Are you-”

“I don’t hear a list!”

“I swear-!”

“That’s not a list?”

“You are absolut-”

“List? Is that you? I don’t hear a list. Just a reaaaally-”

“Oh my fucking god-”

“Dramatic man.”

“I hate you.”

“Au contraire.” 

\---

Newts head tilts as he looks up at the cactus shaped lights, now hanging on Thomas’ side of the room. “Where’d you get those?”

“Gally kidnapped me but we ended up having a lot of fun.”

“Wait… what?”

“Gally and I went out,” Thomas rephrases, laughing softly as Newt squints, trying to piece the two together.

“And you’re like… okay?”

“Yeah.”

“Are you sure?”

“Mmhm.”

“You guys didn’t kill each other?”

“No, he’s actually okay to talk to.”

“ _ Wow _ . I’m really impressed…”

“And I got new lights!” Thomas says, gesturing excitedly to the lights he’d put up and Newt beams, pulling him in by the hip. 

“I love them,” he whispers, kissing Thomas softly. 

“And me?”

“Obviously.” 

“Right… obviously.”

“Hey, question: do you think I’m dramatic?”

“Oh, _love_ , you’re the most dramatic person I know sometimes.”

\---

Minho stops running, turning and watching Thomas  _ try  _ to catch up to him. 

“ _ RUN  _ Thomas! **_Run!_ ** Come on!” Minho yells, knowing Thomas could do better. The metaphorical chains holding him back were almost visible. Minho wanted nothing more than to cut him free. “Thomas come on!” Minho yells, a pain welling up inside him. 

He once said he’d give up being the best runner as long as Newt lived. Well god, He didn’t want his title back if it meant Thomas had to struggle. He couldn’t lose him  _ too _ . (And he never lost Newt, not really, but in some ways or another, he thinks of those days where Newt’s veins were punctured by tubes and his heart barely beat, and he feels lost until he sees Newt again. He doesn’t want to feel lost seeing Thomas.) 

\---

Aj was usually quiet around him, mostly because he figured AJ was shy. Though today he was real chatty, even though Newt wasn’t there and Thomas isn’t sure how he ended up debating the physical repercussions of playing a sport like football with this kid but he did and now there’s no backing out.

“I mean, I don’t know, maybe ending the sport is like a severe extreme, don’t you think?” Thomas says. “Like we could take more precautions, do more to help them but-”

“They develop like angry, serial killer brains! Don’t you think that’s kind of over the top for a sport.”

“Not all of them do,” Thomas defends.

“It’s just like… it’s so gritty, and dangerous. Why would you want that?”

“People like the thrill. People like the sport.”

“Sports in general are boring-”

“You’re honestly just like Newt. If me and Minho didn’t run, well, he’d never go to any of the meets. He’d probably not even know what a track meet was.”

“Hey… how’d you end up with Newt anyways?”

“What?”

“You guys are really close, and I’m kind of a sap for romantic stories.”

Thomas shrugs and AJ watches him sincerely. 

“Well… I dunno, we just… we grew really close, and we had all this traction between us… we almost kissed last year before Christmas, and then we didn’t, and then during summer we were alone on a road trip and… I dunno it just formed from there.”

Thomas can remember their first kiss vividly.  _ “Who said I wanted you to kiss me?” And the look in Newt’s eyes was dangerous, but the tension between them was evident, hung in the air on a roped suspension. Waiting to be dropped, let the work that lead him here do the magic. “Well don’t leave me waiting.” _

_ And Newt was so soft. He remembers how he breathed in and as his chest rose he leaned in closer to Thomas, hand on his jaw, caressing the skin beneath his thumb. It was the best kiss Thomas had ever had, he could feel every atom in Newt's body, and his own lit up like the highway lights after sunset.  _

“He… sucks you in, personality wise. Newt is… _just_ Newt, but that covers so much because Newt is  _ everything _ ,” Thomas admits and AJ nods.

“He's great… hey, you and me should talk more.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. You seem pretty great too.”

“Thanks,” Thomas says, thrown off by the others openness. They never really talked much, mostly because Thomas had little desire to talk to him. He saw that Newt liked him and didn't want to cut in, or make Newt feel as if they shared too much. Suffocation.

Thomas feels that way a lot of the time; like he clings and involves himself too much. Inherently he shuts down. The gears to the steel doors around his heart shift and they grind together until the door shuts, locking in an unbearable hold. He keeps a lot inside because he doesn't think people want to hear it. The gears are rusting, and they are stiff from their commissionless existence. Shut they are, shut they stayed. Certain chambers have gates, in which the endorphins rush and the words don't stop. 

This is especially true, some hours after talking to AJ as Newt drives them somewhere he's been meaning to go. Well, this is especially true with Newt no matter what, but right now he can't seem to stop the word flow. It just happens he just says it.

“My dad…. he doesn't come to events and stuff because he used to drink a lot and I guess one night he  _ hit me _ a little too hard. There was glass everywhere and he'd been yelling at us for what probably wasn't hours but felt like it. You know? And I just… I couldn't take it. So I took the bus and left and I'm pretty sure my brother hardly exists in the same universe as me. Everything is a secret. Everything just happens. My dad isn't really even my  _ dad _ anymore. He just sort of exists somewhere, there for child support that my grandparents really don't need him to give me. And…” he sort of huffs, Newt oddly poised, his cheekbones glistening with the sun, his eyes dart to him briefly but he shows little expression. “Could you  _ say  _ something?” He snaps at Newt, not meaning to sound as angry as he does.

“I could but I don't think you want me to yet,” Newt says calmly, driving on this stupid scenic highway they're always on. 

“I wouldn't ask if I didn't mean it.”

“Your traumas don't define you,” Newt continues.

“And you know? I can't tell people things. I hate telling people things. I'm constantly floored that anybody likes me at all-”

“Which is stupid because you're a wonderful-”

“I'm not. I mean have you met me?”

“Yeah, I have. Usually you're pretty lovely, sometimes you're super dorky. I  _ love  _ you, and your little quirks.”

Thomas is just very, very quiet and he hates that he can feel Newts anxious. He hates that he upset him but everything feels pent up. “I don't really have  _ anyone _ .”

“You have me. You have our friends. There's Chuck, Aris, Winston, Frypan,  _ Minho _ .”

“We're not close. I'm not really close with anyone.”

“Even Minho?”

“I don't know.”

“Even me?”

“It's  _ only  _ you.”

“That's…” Newt pauses. “That's okay, to only be close to one person. It doesn't… friendship and trust are fluid, ever changing. I'm…" Newt regroups, reroutes his argument. "People  _ like  _ you. People think you're great. Give them a chance-”

“It's  _ easy  _ for you, everyone likes you-”

“That's not true!”

“It  _ is _ . And okay its not your fault- I'm sorry- this isn't your fault, I shouldn't even be yelling at you- I just  _ feel  _ messed up and like I want to change. I  _ want  _ to talk to people-”

“Tommy  _ breathe _ . Its okay love. It's okay.” Newt glances at Thomas and he pulls into the cafe they went to the night after their anniversary and parks. He shuts the ignition off, leaving the radio on and unbuckles. “Come here,” he whispers soothingly, his hand gently dusting a tear away, arms extended for him and Thomas falls into his arms, sobbing, falling to pieces against Newts shoulder. “Its okay… it's  _ okay _ . Maybe you just don't see it, but you mean so much to us Thomas. You do.” 

Newt holds him. Grips him tight, like all the nights he panicked. Thomas breaks in his arms and falls back together. Faintly in the background he processes the radio still on and  _ Ribs _ playing, lulling his thoughts with  _ your the only friend I need.  _

“You know you're enough for me,” Thomas says at least ten minutes later. He turns the car off fully, nods.

“I know.”

“I didn't mean… to make you think you're less-”

“I don't I promise. Tommy…” Newt whispers and his eyes have this grossly empathetic depth to them. Thomas thinks he'll cave and cry again. “You don't always have to be happy. Its okay if you're upset or mad…. or just if you feel  _ bad _ . You've been through so much lately and I get it, it's difficult. I know you're trying, but I'm here. I'm always right here.” 

Thomas nods, eyes a bit puffy from crying, lips still pouting. Newt kisses him softly and he leans into it. “I'll go get us some coffee,” Newt soothes, smoothing Tommys shirt over his shoulder blades. 

“You don't have to-”

“We're here and I think you could use it.”

Thomas nods, and he can't really stop thinking about it. In the car or the new book store as Newt reads on the floor, hugging Tommys hand to his chest in anticipation. 

He wants to say something but he can't quite form the words. Newt notices his sullen eyes and cuddles close to him, kissing under his jaw.  _ Its okay, Tommy.  _ Thomas doesn't know if he can believe him.

\---

Everytime he closes his eyes he feels a deep stabbing wound of pain. Like a firework exploding inside him. Like an A-Bomb went off in his gut. Like the whole world was collapsing and all he could see was red and orange fire behind his eyelids. It was the worst feeling in the world, he’d rather die than keep feeling like  _ this _ . And usually when they open, Newts right there beside him, usually on his phone. Except Newt is a senior insomniac, he knew how to lull himself to sleep if he had to. Thomas hugs him, head nuzzled into his shoulder. 

Newt shifts and hugs Thomas, continuing to watch his show, adjusting his headphones so they were still in his ears. Thomas can just barely hear the voices of his British soap.

They do it again and again until morning.

And then he comes back from his jog, Newt waiting with coffee, at the counter with Frypan.

“You good man?” Fry asks, concern tinting his voice.

“Yeah I'm okay. Just really tired.”

“Man, I'll make you a tea that'll knock you right out.”

Thomas laughs and Frypan hugs him. “We love you, you shithead. You know that?”

Thomas laughs. “Usually.” 

\---

Minho starts doing runs with him in the morning, as March is starting to close off. Spring break was fast approaching, and Minho was determined to get Thomas fully prepared for their first meet in a week. “You’re going to do it,” Minho says determined. 

He laces hands with Thomas and yanks him ahead, pushing against his limit. For a moment Thomas feels a the tendrils of ghost pain grip his whole torso but it’s not like he can lose his appendix again, he doesn’t even have an appendix to lose anymore. 

“Breathe, move,” Minho demands. “You can run three times my speed, don’t let fear hold you back.” 

Thomas nods and they meet eyes, Minho seems determined. 

“Shit like fear don’t matter in real life, not when you have goals. Are you throwing in your towel, Thomas?”

“I’m not weak,” Thomas says, starting to seethe.

“So stop acting weak,” Minho pushes. 

Thomas pushes himself to run faster, matching Minho, who raises a brow. “Colleges don’t want a fake runner. A  _ slow  _ runner.”

Thomas pulls ahead, and Minho doesn’t let him get off the leash. If he slows, Minho badgers him. Minho yanks at his insecurities, Minho keeps him going until he can’t and they collapse against the fence by the exit of the track, panting. 

“You’re in a slump. I’m getting you out.”

Thomas doesn’t say anything.

“Newt told me, about what happened in the car-”

“Hey-”

“ ** _No_** , listen to me. Your always up in your own head, I get that, but not like this. This isn’t you. One bad thing happened, but it’s not happening again. You can do better. You want a real friend to pull you through? I’m fucking pulling you through. I refuse to win that next race. You  _ deserve  _ first, every time. So fuck whatever it is in your head holding you back. I’m kicking it out. You’re like freaking Forrest Gump, okay? Run and don’t stop.”

“Thank you Minho…”

“I’m always here for you, man. Don’t you forget that. You pulled me through, a whole shit ton of times, we don’t forget you. I would  _ never  _ forget you. Newt’s my best friend, but you’re my best friend too. Okay?”

“Okay.”

They both squint at each other before laughing. “Geez, next time call me Gus. You’re my hazel.”

“Fucking full of shit, Minho. You’re a big softie.”

Minho smacks him playfully. “Come on, we’re late.”  

\---

“I think he hates me,” Thomas admits three nights before the meet with Minho, they were in his car, eating burgers in the Wendy’s parking lot. 

“Who cares?”

“I do.”

“You ever call him?”

“I have no idea what I’d say.”

“Run to prove him wrong. That’s why I started running, my parents always said I was going nowhere. And maybe I was, I don’t know. Took up track because I thought, shit that’s easy. You know? I didn’t have to be good. But I was. You’re so gifted, not everyone can run like you.”

“You think?”

“I know, you little shit.”

Thomas laughs, taking a fry and chewing on it. Minho takes a bite out of his burger and they chew in silence. 

“You know what? Let it all go,” Minho says. “Deep breath in, and exhale. That shit don’t matter anymore.”

“That works?”

“Kaizen, the art of self improvement. Meditation is the art of peace through breathing. Breathe in, and exhale, and shit gets good. All you gotta do is breathe man.”

“That’s how you get through it?”

“With a lot of Kaizen.” 

“Breathe and Kaizen.”

“Breathe and Kaizen,” Minho agrees, the two leaning on the center console. “Breathe and Kaizen.”

“After fries though.”

“Fucking fair.”

“Your new Kaizen is to stop cursing.”

“Jersey boys only know how to love with curses.”

“Yeah okay.”

“Suck it California daddy.”

“What?”

“You fucking  _ heard. _ ”

“You need more sleep than I do.”

“Hey, Kaizen and breathe. 

\---

Every college Thomas got into had a coach there waiting on edge. There was this lost of faith and trust, as if they weren’t expecting his rebound and Thomas feels his chest tighten. They line up, and the guy in front of him does some fancy back bend to land on his starting block. Minho meets his eyes and they both take a deep breath together before they crouch down. Thomas breathes in, Kaizen and Breathe, waiting for the shot. It almost feels like it might never come, and his world narrows down in front of him when it does. He just  _ takes off _ . 

He vaguely hears Newt yelling,  _ Run! Tommy! Run!  _

He pushes himself, pass the first person in front of him. The next. Nobody matters. He runs to spite his father, he runs in spite of himself. There’s a lot of pain in his blood and it’s just the ghost haunting his bones. Ghosts aren’t real, not if you don’t believe in them. Thomas is done believing in ghosts. He’s done being haunted. 

He runs to spite his father. He runs in spite of himself. He runs until he can’t breathe and when he cross that ribbon, when he crosses first and Newt catches him, he feels his eyes widen. 

“I did it!”

“You did it,” Newt says nodding and he laughs, grabbing Newts face kissing him. Another kiss in the Gladesville history book, another four hundred images by every news source of them. Except this time, it was totally different. This time, there was nothing holding them back. This time he  _ made it _ . He felt like he’d really made it. There wasn’t a fear of being not enough, because he was enough, he was 3 minutes and 45 seconds ahead of the word  _ enough.  _

Minho gets third, and it’s okay, lingering by Newt as his own college admission coaches try to convince him. Newt watches Thomas, he can tell and Thomas glances back at him smiling. 

All that pain, it haunted him. It roped him by the wrists and pinched between his shoulders. Bared his neck and bit. Though, there was never a haunting that man couldn’t find cause and escape, all it took was a little running. And boy, oh boy, could Thomas  _ run _ .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to note that although this chapter doesn't revolve around Newt and his depression it is equally valid as Newt's struggle. All people fall down and slip, and even though I still drew from my own experiences with depression, I also drew from those around me. Sometimes, we fall, and in the wake of that, we hold things back and we are exploding with emotions at the seams. That's okay, and I know that. It is valid to feel upset, even when those around you might suffer worse, or might suffer in a totally different way. It's okay to feel pain, your hurt is valid. It's okay to talk about it, and people are there for you, they really are.   
> In the past month or so, I have suffered quite a bit. I fell, even as I try to improve. I learned though that family is fluid, because we make family, and even when people leave or move away, they are still family and we make room for new family. I learned that it's okay to put myself first. It's okay to step back if I have to. Sometimes, no matter how hard we try, things are out of our control.   
> I want all of you to know, that it's okay, to go through what you are going through, and that you are going to make it. You don't know it yet, maybe you don't see it but you are all brilliant, you all hold this impeccable light inside of you, so blinding it's hard to see. So blinding it's hard to breathe.   
> I believe in you. I believe in all that you can be. I believe in your ability to get past this. Every day for the past month, I kept going "it can't get worse, it can't get worse," and it kept getting worse and I felt like I was falling, but I got through it, I got through my slump, I am slowly picking up the pieces again. Recovery is a process, and that is okay. It's okay. You are going to be okay. And if you need people, well I am people. I am here for you. If you need a sign, this is your sign. If you need a word of assurance, I am here to assure you. I don't know what the future holds, I know the world is so scary right now, but truly, have a little faith in the good this world has. Have faith in yourself.   
> Kaizen and breathe.


	23. Scenery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys go on the College Road Trip

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IMPORTANT NOTE AT THE END!  
> So my AP exams are finally done, and I'm exempt for most of my finals! Yay!  
> Ramadan Kareem to all of my muslim followers out there! If you observe or don't observe the holiday, I hope it treats you right.

_ The sun was endless glow, golden on their skin. Top down on the convertible. Newt was gorgeous in a way Thomas couldn't imagine, how he smiled, turning to him as he laughed. He was bright and beautiful and so young seeming then. So sweet. He wasn't so tired or beaten. So nervous. _

_ “Pull over there!” _

“And don't miss the entrance,” Newt says, pointing at where Thomas was supposed to stop, Minho, Gally and AJ in the car with them. Thomas slows and turns into the lot, before parking so they can eat. Newt is beaming, excited. They were  _ finally  _ on spring break. It was  _ finally  _ almost over. Thomas could see the nerves disappearing, the way Newt seemed so full of life, just then and there. 

_ The second time they kissed, it was sunny and nobody else was in the parking lot. Newt had shyly leaned over, tilting Thomas’ head, he had swallowed before smiling in that softly coy way of his, the one that held so much promise. And then he pressed their lips together, in a chaste, endearing kiss.   _

It doesn't really matter to him others are in the car, they lace hands and Newt kisses him. Sun dancing on their skin, making them seem somehow golden. Gally complains, in the near background. But its just noise to them. Everything was molecular static, buzzing in their ears. It's as if they lived in a hologram together, a world of their own as they kissed. 

_ “We should get going, if we ever want to make it to the cabin we rented.”  _

Newt parts, but just barely. Thomas wonders how you could forget the color of someone's eyes until you see them, because it seems so obvious. Newt had eyes as black as the seas abyss, with so much clarity and yet so much mystery. Yet as they are, he forgets, and he could swear that maybe they're green. Maybe they're light brown. He doesn't even realize the others have left the car to greet the rest of their friends, so close to being locked in their hologram again, so close to being detached. 

Newt kisses him again, briefly, and his cheeks are a bit rosy. His eyes flutter open and Thomas thinks its so obvious that his eyes are as black as the ocean's abyss, always worth drowning in. He didn't really know that Newts worst fear was drowning, and he especially didn't know it was Newts preferred way to die, his grand suicide. Though he could drown in Newts eyes and it'd all be okay. 

“You're thinking about something,” Newt points out.

“Just… for a minute I forgot the color of your eyes. Then I realized how stupid that was… because there's not really any other eye color that could be yours.” 

Newt smiles softly, lacing their hands and kissing Thomas’ knuckles. Appreciative presses on his skin, smiling in that endearing way of his. 

“Well they’re nothing special,” Newt whispers.

“Everything about you is special to me.”

Newt laughs, kissing Thomas, and he loves that they are so much more comfortable than they used to be. The difference between last spring and this spring, is this spring Newt loved him so openly, last spring he’s not sure that Newt had loved him at all. Thomas thinks he’s gotten quite lucky, in the sense that, Newt loved him, more than anything. He was the greatest illusion to have, the most wonderful person to love. Everything about Newt was something wildly eccentric and sort of different. 

Newt could often say the same about Thomas, who had strange honey colored eyes, who was always kind, if anything, a little haughty at times. He was more intelligent than he knew and Newt  _ adored  _ Thomas. Newt couldn’t even begin to describe how much he adored Thomas. How much he  _ loved  _ him. (And were they too young to be in love? Would they make it out? Newt wanted to think they would. That this was  _ forever _ ; what him and Thomas had.)

“We should go before they eat lunch without us,” Newt whispers and Thomas agrees. 

\---

It was easy to just watch the world pass by, Newt getting lost in his own head, his hand following the currents of the wind. He sort of longed to be in a cabin somewhere, disconnected from his fears, yet here was, in the backseat now with Minho curled up against him sleeping. The street lights glew such ominous glow, twinkling, spotlight promises. 

Thomas is in the front seat, leaning against the window as he sleeps, Gally was driving. AJ was on his phone. Newt looks to AJ inquisitive, just watching him for a moment before looking back out at the scene before them. Vaguely he recalls sleeping in the backseat of Tommys convertible, waking up around 1.36 AM as Thomas sang along to the old radio hits they only played when nobody was listening.

He briefly recalls that Thomas was singing Fleetwood Mac. Just seemed then to be a hazy dream, more than now, a sleeping figure, so peaceful in the front seat. There's a sort of comfort in parallel. Ending where you once started was a sort of closure that Newt thinks he needed. 

\---

“Myśleć o niebieskich migdałach, Newt,” Thomas tells him, and Newt recognizes the phrase to mean  _ thinking of blue almonds _ in Polish and he smiles, zoning back in. 

“It’s been a long ride.”

“What does that mean?” AJ asks, curious.

“Probably something dirty,” Gally says. 

“It means to daydream,” Thomas says. 

“Simply put,” Newt says.

“Like… dirty day dreams,” Gally continues to tease.

“No, just daydreams.”

“Were they dirty?”

“He’s got eight inches, it’s worth thinking about,” Newt says, leaning forward with a coy smirk, watching Gally. Thomas is wide eyed.

“Newt! How would you know that!”

“It’s been up my ass, it’s pretty easy to estimate how much goes and how much doesn’t.”

Gally scoffs. “Gross.”

“Tell me about last weekend,  _ again _ ,” Newt dares. “Besides, if I had anal with a girl, you’d all be applauding.”

“He’s right,” Thomas defends, still bright pink. 

“Why are you pink?” Gally asks.

“Because my boyfriend has no filter sometimes.”

“Oh please, I wasn’t actually thinking about sex,” Newt clarifies. “The scenery, it reminds me of England.”

They all nod sympathetically. Funny how guys can go from sex to sentiment so quickly. “You ever miss home, like get really homesick?” AJ asks Newt and Newt shrugs. 

“Depends on where I’m going when I get there. England in General… is my home, it has my whole heart, you know? But… I dunno, my family can be real shit, bruv. Would rather not be around them.”

“Speaking of, how’s Sunny?” Thomas asks. “She hasn’t texted me back since a couple nights ago.”

“Mmm, she had a dance or something. She’s got it worse than me because she had to become fluent in French before being shipped off.”

“Sucks. I wish I could be fluent in French though,” Gally admits. 

“I  _ am  _ fluent in French, but what use do I have for it? Unless I move to France or something.”

“So smart,” Thomas teases.

“I try, really I do,” Newt teases back, kissing his cheek before sitting back down in his chair. He lovingly gazes at Thomas for a moment or two, and Thomas catches his eyes and raises both brows and Newt scrunches his nose. The rest of the car ride to their first stop is relatively quiet. 

They arrive at Harvard and it’s sort of like a dream, sort of unreal, and sort of nothing too special. It was… well big was underestimating it. Regal and eloquent and they could hardly wrap their minds around the whole thing. 

Newt sits on a bench looking around and shrugs. 

“I don’t know that I can see myself here?”

“Snobbish,” Winston admits and Newt nods. 

“Yeah. Snobbish.” 

Thomas shrugs. “I like it here,” He admits and they all nod. 

“Back off, I committed,” Gally says and Thomas snorts.

“Changed my mind, then.”

\---

On the drive to Yale, Newt and AJ talked most of the way through. Debating nonsense things and Thomas just listened to them, Minho drove. Gally switched to the other car. Minho and Thomas occasionally exchanged jokes and anecdotes, made of the two behind them. The car full of hot air from the talk, and they were so happy, it seemed. Like the world was passing by them, and it didn't seem to matter. Nothing was worth a care. In that moment, in those few hours, it all was just blown by the wind as they talked. Fell into silence. Talked again. Played the radio and sang along.  

They’re at the hotel within some odd hours and they all disperse to their rooms with their partners, Newt and Thomas rightfully sharing a room. They take turns showering and changing into fresh clothes, cuddling in the bed together. Thomas rubs small circles into Newt’s back, along his shoulder blade, it doesn’t take long for Newt to fall into a peaceful sleep against his chest. Warm and his soft snores are almost as if he’s purring, his long hair flopped into his eyes. Thomas gently brushes the hair away and kisses his forehead, Newt only shifts closer. 

Things really weren’t so bad, not when someone loved and trusted him so much as Newt did. 

\---

Newt was in love with Yale. It’s like the whole world clicked into a rightful position for him. It all just sort of fit. Everything fell into place. Yale was it, he could feel it. It didn’t even feel necessary to go to any other school. He felt at home, in some odd way, and he feels excitement and dread fill his veins. It felt like it was it and yet, it didn't feel like it at all. Like it was surreal in a way, that college was still years away and that he wasn't 18, rather he was still 15, and scared of the world. 

“Put the tuition down,” Minho encourages. 

“I don’t know… Should I?”

“Yes. You're happy here, don't you think that's worth it?"

Newt hesitates. Minho stops him.

"You deserve to be in a place that you're happy."  


Newt nods, and he stares up at the school from the archway they’re under before nodding. “Let’s find admissions.”

\---

Even as the world shifted into focus, it didn’t feel very focused at all. Newt as he drove felt sort of lost, in his own head, second guessing his goals and aspirations. Life could be so easy… if he just took over for his father. The world could be so simple… if he just went home and acted how his parents wanted. Does he really want this, was it too late to go back now? 

Chewing his lip, he wonders if he was making all the wrong decisions over the right ones. Maybe he wasn’t ready to go at all. Maybe he was going to flounder next year, fail. He felt like he had no chance, that it was all a mistake. Yet, the only way to know was to get there first, and he was far from there it seemed. Like time was dragging on forever. Like he might never reach his destination. 

_ “Where are we going?” Newt recalls asking Thomas. _

_ “Down by the river,” Thomas explains, but the way was so long, it felt as if they’d melt in the ground before they ever reached it. They could’ve just stayed in the air conditioned cabin, but somehow the trip to the river seemed so much more appealing.  _

_ They walk in silence a long time, hands barely touching. They were more shy then, and Newt had felt more sure then, when the medication used to work. (Yet so slowly slipping… slipping.) It always felt kind of wrong, kind of awkward, because do best friends date? Do best friends love each other like this?  _

_ Newt watches the trees pass by and Thomas just seems to fit amongst them. Maybe the road was long, but the scenery was worth it.  _

Glancing around the road in front of him, Newt thinks of how in two months boarding school won’t be his home anymore, that everything will change, that perhaps, the road wasn’t as long as he thought, that now it was just scenery, and perhaps it was worth enjoying. 

Perhaps, there was something worth it in the end. That the destination would be as gratifying as a cold river on a hot summer day.

"Mm, Newt, play some music," Thomas requests, quiet and sleepy and Newt offers his phone. Thomas puts on a calming, and rather quiet kind of playlist, nothing too upbeat, to match the lull of purple morning sky. "Where are we going again?" 

"Kings College," Newt reminds him. "Columbia in the city."

"Like Hamilton."

"Yeah, like Hamilton." Newt laughs and Thomas smiles, tired. 

"We're gonna be okay, you know?"

"Yeah?"

"Yeah... we're gonna be just fine." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Sorry for my constant leaves of absence, exams were KILLER but now they're over!! Yay!! So I have some announcements!  
> 1\. I have recieved some fan art pieces for Stunner!! AND I would like to create a chapter after my closing chapter of just a collection of fan arts or even like an open letter, what the story means to you, ANYTHING that you would like to be posted under my fan works chapter! I'll format it and everything so that each piece is separated yknow. FEEL FREE TO SUBMIT TO MY TUMBLR waldenbeckboys.tumblr.com OR shoot me a message there and I'll give you my email and you can email it to me!  
> 2\. STUNNER WILL ONLY HAVE TWO MORE CHAPTERS! Chapter 25, as of right now, will be the last OFFICIAL chapter! I have 2 really long chapters planned out, I know this one was really short but it was kind of a filler chapter of a plot point I'd made a point of, but it turned out to be not nearly as important as I wanted, and my inspiration for the road trip plot kinda died, so I hope this chapter is okay????? Since I have all this free time now, I do expect the next two chapters to be written soon (in shaa allah)  
> 3\. I REALLY AM CONSIDERING writing a sequel to this, where they're in college? I have a solid idea for it and probably the first chapter could be written within a few short hours. Would y'all be interested, would you read it?   
> SO that's the ish, please! Feel free to message me on tumblr (waldenbeckboys) or leave your comments down below! I promise a better chapter is coming along.


	24. Minho's Great Resolve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Gladers senior year is finally dwindling to it's final two months, and they're faced with the abstract thought that soon enough, they're never going to see each other again. That life is going to change for all of them. The chapter mainly deals with Minho and his struggle to decide the direction he wants to take in life, and what he wants to be, alongside his struggle to face that he'll have to make new friends in new places, and won't be nearly as close to the people he's know almost his whole life: Frypan, Winston, _Newt_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys!! Thank you so much for being patient with me. I wrote and rewrote this chapter for the past month, trying to handle the subject matter that really involves a lot of my own thoughts and emotions and struggles with the idea of college as realistically as possible. Some of these are adapted conversations that I've had over the past year with my own friends and parents.  
> There's this big idea that you have to go to school and you HAVE to be some big important doctor or something, but that's just not true. There is so much out there, so many opportunities to learn and to grow and to really discover yourself. I won't say what my final decision was, I'll talk a lot more in depth about my experiences the past two years in my cover letter.  
> DON'T FORGET!!! I am creating a "fans" page after the final chapter to go into this fic, including art by Evekele, who has actually made some beautiful stunner art!! If you have any art you want to share, edits, thoughts, or even like a goodbye note, something as to what this story means to you, comment it down below OR submit to my tumblr submission box: waldenbeckboys.tumblr.com/submit and I'll make sure to include it!

Minho and Newt are on the couch watching a movie, and Minho is frantically texting his parents, not really paying attention. Something very few of his friends understood was that Minho actually was quite close to his parents, regardless of their occasional harsh sentiment. They only tried to do what was best for him. He sort of just wants to run, he wants to curl up in his bed and cry but he doesn’t want anyone to look for him or be concerned or anything like that. He doesn’t want to feel like he’s caused a scene or a commotion or has bothered anybody. 

He turns off his phone, trying to breathe. He can feel Newts eyes on him, but it amounts to nothing more than Newt scooting over and snuggling against him. Minho lets his breath out slowly, emptying his lungs of stale, anxious air. “You okay?” Newt whispers.

Minho nods slowly. 

_ Whatsapp: mom: Min darling, you don’t have to know what you want to do now. There’s so much time in the world, so much time in your life for you to figure that out.  _

_ Whatsapp: Minho: idk it feels like I need to know everybody else knows _

_ Whatsapp: dad: nobody actually knows, you’re hardly 18. Hell, I didn’t know what I wanted to be when I was 18 _

He closes his phone screen, and he wonders if Newt had been reading his messages but he glances over and Newt’s entranced by the sci fi movie on the screen, popcorn lingering on his fingertips at his lips as he watches the suspense on the screen. His tongue slowly rolls the popped kernel into his mouth, chewing slowly as he tries to make sense of the odd world on screen, looking up at Minho and smiling. 

“What? Do I look pretty or something?” he teases and Minho scoffs, shaking his head.

“I thought I wasn’t your type.”

“You’re not, but that doesn’t mean I’m not yours.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I’m everyone's type.”

“Oh geez, you’re too much.”

Newt laughs and Minho laughs too, the two squeezing hands before Newt sits back. “Go ‘ahhh’,” he says, mimicking how Minho should open his mouth and he does, catching the popcorn Newt tosses his way and catches it. It was one of Minho's few exceptional talents. They do this a few times, tossing the kernels back and forth, and trying to catch them with their mouths. For a few precious moments, Minho feels all his worry melt away and and somehow as they lean back into each other, he finds his limbs moving on their own accord, pulling Newt into a tight hug. He feels Newt tense, he can imagine the look of surprise on his face, but Newt only hugs him back, his interest lost in the movie as he rocks him gently in his arms, letting Minho take solace in the comfort only his best friend could provide.

“You’re my best friend,” Minho whispers. “And I don’t tell you enough but I love you.”

“I love you too,” Newt whispers back, rubbing his back in soothing circles. Rocking them together. “Are you okay…?”

“I don’t know,” Minho admits. 

Newt pulls back to look at him and Minho can look down at his lap, where his hands have fallen to fidget. “What’s going on?”

“You know exactly who you want to be, what you want to do. All of you do, I don’t know anything. I don’t even know if I want to go to college, or if I want to do… whatever it is I want to do.”

“You could go undecided.”

“What if I never decide?”

“You will decide.”

“What if I  _ don’t  _ though?”

“You’re overthinking it. None of us really know what we want to do… maybe I’ll change my mind in two years.” 

“But you still have a direction to go in,” Minho argues. 

“You do too, it's just different darling.” 

“Not… I don’t know,” Minho resigns. “I just want to figure things out.”

“Give it time you will.”

“Do you know the answer to everything?”

“I do a lot of googling.”

Minho laughs, sniffling and Newt pouts, wiping the tear that escapes from the corner of his eye. “I’m okay, I don’t know why I’m crying.”

“Your overwhelmed. Its okay to cry.”

“I’m being dramatic.”

“You’re not. You’re allowed to have a moment of just… a little inner turmoil. It happens.” Minho sniffles, trying to keep his tears in, and Newt gestures. “Come back over here,” he cooes and really that's all it takes to persuade Minho. He scooches back into Newts arms, hugging him tight, falling apart in the arms of his best friend, and Newt doesn’t say anything. He all but forgets about the movie they were watching, the popcorn they were sharing.

_ Whatsapp: mom: you know we’re proud of you, more than anything. Don’t you darling? We only want what’s best for you, and whatever that is, we’re going to help you find it.  _

Minho doesn’t see it right away, what his mom says, engulfed in Newt’s arms. He feels like, deep down, he knows what he wants, but sometimes the right thing to do for yourself, is the scariest thing to admit. Perhaps it's not a favorable option, nothing is ever too promising. He pushes down this intuitive calling, the deep held desire and sobs into Newts shoulder quietly, and Newt comforts him, gently petting his hair. 

_ Whatsapp: Dad: your moms right, it doesn’t matter to us what you do or how much you make. What matters is that you do what's right for yourself, and you turn out to be a good person. That’s all we want for you.  _

Minho pulls away, wiping at his eyes. “I’m okay,” He insists and Newt rubs his arms.

“It’s okay if you’re not.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“I know.”

“It’s gonna be fine.”

“You’re strong, so I believe it…” 

Minho takes in a breath. “I’m fine.”

“I believe you… just you don’t always have to be.”

“God it feels like everything passed me,” Minho admits. Didn’t he just say he was fine? God he really hated himself sometimes. “It’s like yesterday I had perfect ACT scores and now I don’t even know if I want to go to college.”

“You don’t have to.”

“What a disappointment I would be.”

“Nobody believes that. Don’t put silly things like that in your head.”

“Easy for you to say, your what parents dreamed I would be.”

“Funny enough, I’m nothing that my parents dreamed I would be.” 

“You’re so smart, and you understand everything, and you’re studying to be a  _ surgeon  _ and you have this great relationship, you’re probably going to be married by like 20-”

“ _ 20 _ ? Oh my god, I feel like I’m still a baby, that’s only 2 years away, I can’t get married at 20.”

“And you’re valedictorian-”

“You’re literally 3 spots from salutatorian.” 

“That’s second best. And you didn’t even know what that was until we had our graduation meeting last month.”

“You’re the best in my heart,” Newt says cutely, clasping his hands over his heart. 

“Newt, this is serious.”

“You’ve managed to get full scholarships here every year of high school. I know your parents are tough on you, and they really encourage you to do more than you think you’re capable of, but the fact is, you don’t see yourself as worthy or capable of what you can achieve. I’ll never know why that is, or what's holding you back, but you’re capable. You’re incredibly smart and talented and athletic. You have so many friends who love you, and so many people who support you… be kind to yourself.”

“I wish it was that easy Newt.”

“Nothing's easy, but you’re too strong for easy. Fortify a little, believe in yourself.”

Minho smiles, hugging a throw pillow on the couch ash leans back. “Thanks Newt…” he whispers softly, his small smile still there and Newt smiles back, brushing his fingers through his hair. 

“I’ve always got you…” He cooes, as Winston and Frypan burst through the door, laughing, Thomas behind them as he and Gally are inevitably yelling at each other about something. It’s like a breath of life was breathed into the somber room, a much more vibrant air brought up. 

“You’re insufferable!” Thomas argues. “That’s literally wrong! You’re wrong!”

“Tony Stark-”

“Is fucking precious! Take it back! Take back what you said.”

“Sucks. He sucks.” 

“You suck, what the fuck? He’s precious.”

“Newt, can you take control of your boyfriend?”

“I don’t really like marvel movies, but I trust his opinion,” Newt says, shrugging.

“We go back, how could you?”

“Sorry Gally.” Newt shrugs and Thomas goes ‘ha!’ in his face and Minho laughs at that. 

“You’re such a fuckface, you know that?” Minho says. “Also who hates Tony Stark? Little asshole.”

“Not you too. I say we ban Thomas.”

“You can’t take my cuddle buddy away! If you do that, who’s gonna cuddle me? You?” Newt taunts. 

“You want me to?” He asks touched, and Newt reaches over and smacks his arm playfully.

“Oooo Thomas, you got competition!” Frypan says and Newt laughs.

“I definitely don’t want you too. All that track running, gave him one helluva’n ass.”

“Hey! Wait, that was a compliment,” Thomas says, Minho shaking his head, standing to rub Thomas’ arm.

“How do you get anything done?” He teases and Thomas shrugs.

“I don’t know… I’m just trying my best.”

“And that’s all we can ask for.”

Thomas smiles bright and Minho laughs. It hurts his heart to think he won’t get to see his stupid smile every day, or have him to work out with every day. That Thomas will be at Yale with Newt and happy, living their best lives together. That he’ll be so far from them. It felt so routine, so much like home, to wake up and find Thomas coming in sweaty from a run, to be on the track messing around with him, to settle to dinner with everyone in this suite. 

Gladesville was home, the suite was home. It was so odd, that in just a few short weeks it would never be home again. They’d all go their separate ways, some of them never speaking again. He struggles with this, with the idea that he won’t see his friends as often, or be this close to so many people again. That he’ll just have to start fresh somewhere far away. 

He smiles as he notices everyone else is laughing at something, and they all break apart into different things, Newt and Thomas staying to finish the movie with Minho, who wiggles his way in the center of the two. 

“Hey bae,” Thomas teases and kisses the air, Minho laughing.

“Bro,” he says touched and blows one back. 

“Gross,” Newt says. 

“Your gross,” Minho argues. Newt rolls his eyes, leaning his head on Minho’s shoulder. “We missed like half the movie.”

“Why?” Thomas asks.

“Making out,” Newt chips in.

Thomas nods, unphased. “Hot.”

“Thought I wasn’t your type,” Minho says, squinting at Newt and Newt squints back, nodding. 

“Anything to make Thomas jealous,” He snaps back soon. “He’s sexy when he’s mad.”

“Okay Ew, I never wanted that much information on him ever,” Minho says, shaking his head. Thomas laughs.

“Ugh come on, we could totally be like- what do they call… like romantic threesomes?”

“What?”

“When you’re dating more than one person?”

“I think your joke just fell over the earth's last corner,” Newt says, and Minho snorts, Thomas looks confused. “Flat earth joke.”

“You’re such a loser. I’m dating you?”

“Willingly, yes.”

“Ugh.”

“Polyamorous? Is that what you meant?” Minho says, looking to Thomas.

“Yeah!” Thomas says. “Not that anything is wrong with it, just not my thing.”

“Me neither,” Newt said.

“I’m not even into dudes, so…” Minho shrugs, and his two best friends nod in understanding. 

“Dudes suck, so I understand.”

“You’re a dude.”

“And I’m pretty shitty.”

“You make Aris cry like once a week,” Thomas agrees.

“That’s his own problem not mine.”

“Newt!”

“What? He’s so- I’m not getting into it.”

Minho laughs. “Okay, I think it's Newts bedtime.”

“But the movie.”

“That you apparently missed half of…” Thomas says skeptically.

“Oh stop, Minho was having a moment.”

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Minho says, smiling cutely and Thomas smiles back. “Now get Newt to bed before he says anything else questionable.”

“I wasn’t even mean! I stopped myself.”

Thomas gets up and takes Newts hands. “Lets go,” he says. Newt reluctantly follows, sticking his tongue out at Minho who laughs, sticks his own out at Newt. Thomas leads him into their dorm and shuts the door. 

“Is he actually okay?” 

“Yeah,” Newt says, leaning against the bed frame. “How was your outing?”

“Really fun. The new movie was  _ amazing _ ,” Thomas says, giddy and Newt smiles gently, offering his hand and Thomas takes it, kissing his knuckles gently. “You woke up early, you should actually get ready for bed.” 

“It’s good that you had fun,” Newt says. “And I go to bed, I’m just gonna be curled up all night, watching videos on my phone anyways.”

“You started watching that new tv show didn’t you?”

“Mmm… which one?”

“What?”

“If you mean  _ Master Chef  _ I finished it. Now I’m watching this American drama.” 

Thomas laughs. “You’re nuts.”

He shrugs. “No, just sleep deprived.” 

Thomas pouts, pulling him in closer by his wrist and Newt shrugs. “It’s okay,” Newt amends. 

“It’s not. Why don’t you take your sleeping pills?”

“They make me dizzy.”

“Well when you’re unconscious you tend not to feel that.”

“Boo you whore.”

“You’re only saying that because I’m right.”

“It’s shit advice and I refuse.”

“You need to sleep.”

“Sleep with me tonight.”

“That’s inappropriate.”

“I meant like, stay in my bed.”

Thomas hums in thought. “What am I getting out of this?”

“A cuddle buddy who loves Vampire Diaries all of a sudden.”

“Seriously?”

“Yes! The first guy is obviously not a high schooler but he’s so pretty. He smiled and I creamed myself a little.”

“He’s not that pretty.”

“When it’s 4 AM he is!”

“Please refrain from having an orgasm that I’m not involved in when I’m sleeping. Unless you wake me up and get me involved, that’s a different story.”

“Your hormones must be wild tonight because my darling Thomas would  _ never  _ give up 8 to 10 hours of sleep for sex. I don’t even think I know you anymore.” 

“I think I like you so much, I’d totally give up a run to cuddle you.”

“False, are you a robot? Were you replaced? Are you his twin brother?”

“No he has moles not freckles.”

“Awh cute.”

“Hey!”

“You have the same face, you can’t possibly be offended.”

“My freckles are cuter.”

Newt leans forward and kisses Tommy’s cheek, over the small dusting of freckles along his cheekbone. “They’re my favorite thing in the whole wide world.”

Thomas exhales slowly, watching Newt who was lingering so close to him. Who was so beautiful in soft lighting, who fit so nicely in his arms. “God I want this to never end.”

“What?”

“Us… me and you.”

“What do you mean?”

Newt knew what he meant, he didn’t really want to hear the answer though. Thomas shrugs, rubbing the small of Newts back. “Just… what if we’re not forever, me and you?”

“Don’t say that,” Newt whispers, their noses nudging together. “We can make it work… we’re gonna make it work.”

“I’m not leaving you.”

“You’re not allowed.”

“I just… I want us to last.”

“We will,” Newt says determined. “We’re going to last.”

Thomas nods, and Newt is so close to him, looks so hurt by the idea that it might not work out for them, and he can’t stand it. It rips his heart in half, hurts him so deeply that one day he could have the power to hurt somebody so precious to him. He leans forward and seals the gap between them, melting into a kiss and hoping his blood melts into the cracks that have formed in his heart, mend what he felt he damaged with his own thoughts. 

Then his bedtime alarm goes off and they both startle, Newt wide eyed. “I think that’s yours.”

“Yeah it is,” Thomas admits sorrowful. 

“I get the bathroom first,” Newt decides, grabbing his little bag of toiletries and heading off the bathroom. Thomas changes into his PJs before going to the bathroom and joins Newt in bed when he comes back. 

“Can’t believe you watch that show.”

“Believe it,” Newt says, smiling, turning his body so he’s spooned under Newts arm, phone and arm on his chest, headphones in. “You want a headphone?”

“Pass actually.”

“Judgy.”

“Out of the love of my heart.”

“You had a Pretty Little Liars phase!”

“Fine, but-”

“No buts!”

They both laugh and kiss, minty fresh from brushing their teeth. “Goodnight. Try to sleep at least 3 hours?”

“Do my best love. Goodnight.”

\---

Minho is rushing down the stairs when he bumps into Alby, the two bewildered, as if they had forgot the other existed. As to no real agreement, they just stopped talking to each other. That if Newt wasn’t involved, they had no real reason to talk. And Alby knew, more than anything, that Minho loved Thomas like a brother, adored him as much as he adored Newt. Would protect him at any cost. After what he did, it wasn’t in the cards for him to be friends with Minho. Though they didn’t move, they just stood there, waiting for the other to speak. 

“I uh… Uh hey?” Minho says.

“Hey,” Alby says back. “We haven’t talked in a while I guess.”

“Not really, no… how's it going?”

“Good…”

“Your new friends treating you okay?” So maybe Minho was a little angry. 

“Listen man…”

“I don’t want a half hearted apology. You  _ hurt _ me, did you ever think about that? Think about how, despite everything me and you have been through together, you never apologized to me? Or Newt, for that matter, who cried for  _ hours  _ thinking his boyfriend- our  _ friend  _ was dying? Does that matter to you at all, or because I don’t go to drag races or talk real deep when I’m high, it doesn’t matter? I was your best friend, I was there for you-”

“Minho I didn’t ever-”

“And for what? What am I missing? What was Newt missing? It used to be us three and then like that you were gone!” Minho says, laughing bitterly, tears welling his eyes again. Alby doesn’t ever think he’s seen Minho cry. “You’re a real sonuvabitch.” 

“You don’t know what I was going through, you don’t know what was going on in my life-”

“Well we asked, we begged you to talk to us!” Minho snaps. “I spent so many days just trying to get your attention to tell me  _ anything  _ but here you are, telling me I don’t know. You didn’t want me to know.”

“Listen, you and Newt were good friends-”

“Yeah we were.” 

“Would you just let me apologize?”

“No.”

“What?”

“I don’t want your apology.”

Newt is coming down the stairs texting on his phone, stops when he sees the two. “Minho you okay?” He asks, ignoring Alby’s presence. 

“Alby wants to apologize.”

He sees the look on Newts face, and he watches him swallow, closing his phone screen and staring at it a second before putting it in his pocket. “I don’t think I’ll ever understand,” Newt begins, turning to look at Alby, fully, head on, straight in the eyes. “I don’t know if I want to anymore.”

“Newt…” Alby whispers, biting his lip to stop it from quivering. He recalls how deeply Newt meant to him, his everything, his best friend, the only friend he ever needed, and he blew it away like dead leaves in the grass. 

“But I’m sorry too.”

“You did nothing wrong…”

“I must’ve done something.”

“I’m really sorry, to both of you,” He says more sincerely. “I just… I don’t think I can talk about it.”

Newt steps forward, swallowing thick, audibly. He lays a gentle hand on Alby’s shoulder. “I forgive you,” he says seriously. “I forgive you, and it’s in the past now.”

Alby glances to Minho who shakes his head. “I don’t.” 

“Thank you Newt,” Alby says and Newt nods, turning and walking away with Minho to walk to class together. 

“I hate him,” Minho says when they’re far enough.

“It’s okay…” Newt cooes. “I understand.”

Minho nods, before raising a brow. “Thomas was late to our run this morning.”

Newt looks caught off guard, blushing a bit. “It wasn’t my fault.”

“No?”

“Nooo…?” he says, tilting his head a bit. Well okay, maybe it was, and maybe he did a dirty dirty thing, but he definitely wasn’t about to tell Minho said thing that he did. He blushes a lot deeper thinking about it.

“Gross, you two are the definition of horny teenagers.”

“Nobody says anything when you and Brenda make it. This is homophobic.”

“You tease me all the time!”

“Homophobia, I’m reporting you to the bully box in the guidance department.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“I would. It’s gonna say ‘Minho is a big homophobic wad of paper’ on it.”

“You’re terrible.”

“A little bit,” Newt agrees, his head held high with a certain prestige. “You love me though.”

“I regret it sometimes.”

“Birds of a feather flock together.”

“Or something like that.”

They bump shoulders and make their way into their first class, a bit early. They pull out their laptops and set up, Newt toying around with the drawing feature on his. Minho glances around and opens up google, typing in  _ the right career for me  _ and clicking the first reasonable seeming website, and taking the quiz on there. He does this for several, his heart sort of racing and he really doesn’t want anybody to see that he’s taking them. 

So deeply he feels that everybody knows what they’re doing and that he was lonely, and lost. A bird with no nest to land in. He keeps getting business related professions, few medical professions, a couple times architecture pops up and his heart races. He takes out his phone and texts his parents.

_ Whatsapp: Minho: what about business?  _

_ Whatsapp: Dad: what about it? _

_ Whatsapp: Minho: as a profession for me. _

_ Whatsapp: Dad: like open up your own? _

_ Whatsapp: Minho: idk maybe? _

_ Whatsapp: Mom: Business is a good place to start _

_ Whatsapp: Dad: Or end. Do you want to be a store manager or a restaurant manager or do you want your own business? _

_ Whatsapp: Dad: I mean, do you want to do business. _

_ Whatsapp: Minho: I’ve been kind of thinking about it. About opening up a tech company. _

_ Whatsapp: Mom: Okay…? _

_ Whatsapp: Dad: Aren’t your classes starting? We’ll talk later _

He puts his phone down, and stretches his arm so his hand droops over the desk, head smushing against his arm. Newt laces their hands and squeezes playfully. “You okay?” Newt asks. 

“Fine,” he mumbles. He smiles half hearted and Newt smiles back. It was a good reassurance, having Newt in his life. He hates thinking how he could have lost his best friend once, for being so careless about loving him. He hates to think that once Newt, who is now so alive, and full of life, once was so lifeless in his arms. 

He hates to think about it and yet sometimes, it’s all he can think about. Unending anxiety about if Newts okay in the other room. If he's breathing, if he’s bleeding, if he’s okay. At least with Thomas, he knows the danger was simply chance, a mishap in his body, not purposeful at all. But sometimes he watched Newt take his pills too closely. Sometimes he checked Newts stuff for loose razors or misplaced letters, diary entries that seemed dangerous, read their texts to cautiously. He did it because he wanted Newt to survive, he knew he had a great potential to. That Newt would be okay, but he was so scared that Newt didn’t see it too. 

He glances up and Newt is still boredly scrolling through his pinterest feed on his laptop, checking his college email, all with the one hand he left available. Minho smiles softly to himself, it was okay that Newt was okay, and he felt safe knowing Newt was here safe. It’s odd to think in just a few hours even, this moment will be a memory, Newt shining against warm sun, in his short sleeve shirt, his nice jeans. 

“What’re you thinking about?”

“How much I’m going to miss you next year.”

Newt grins, laughing bashfully. “I’ll miss you too.”

It was this unresolved moment of disparity, of missing each other before he had anything to miss. He had wanted high school to end since he got here, but now he wants to stay a while longer. He never wants to leave. 

\--

Thomas looks up with a bag of chips between his lips, he was looking through his backpack for something when Minho joined him in the courtyard. He watches him let the bag fall from his lips and shakes his floppy waves out of his hair. “What’s up?” he asks kind of frantic.

“Nothing… what’s up with you?” Minho asks, skeptic of the situation.

“I think I lost…” he glances down into his bag and rummages a bit again. “My button. That button I love? I could’ve swore when it came off my jean jacket earlier, I had put it in this pocket but its not in here.”

“You’re sure?”

“Well…. I’m looking!”

Minho nods, taking the bag and opening the zipper and checking again between the few other things Thomas kept in there. There was a lip balm, his keys, a few spare pens. He feels for the round surface of a button, but finds none, at least not in that pocket, and checks the other one located inside the bag, before checking the other pockets. He finally finds it, in the front left pocket, tucked safely behind a few tissues. Thomas lights up, snatching it and hugging it to his heart. Minho laughs. He remembers that he had bought that button with Thomas at Comic Con last year, when their coach took the team as a reward for winning the summer season. 

“Thank you!” He says, beaming and Minho laughs.

“You would’ve found it eventually.”

“No, I would’ve freaked out and then probably cried.”

Minho laughs, rubbing his arm sympathetically. Thomas takes off his jean jacket and puts the pin back on. “You okay? You want to talk about last night?”

“What?”

“Well, Newt said you had a moment. He didn’t say anything else, I promise. Just… I’ve been worried for you.”

“I just… everything is a lot right now.”

Thomas nods. “Yeah?”

“I don’t… I don’t know. Everybody else knows what they want. Knows what they feel, what they like, where their life is going-” Thomas scoffs. “What?”

“I sure as hell don’t know any of that.”

“You have a major.”

“I’m going to Yale for business and advertising but I don’t even think I want to do that.”

“What?”

“I just thought it’d make my parents happy,” Thomas admits, pulling out a lollipop, popping it out of its wrapper and sticking it into his mouth. He offers Minho one and he takes one, the watermelon flavor was his favorite. 

“You’re serious?” he asks, watching Thomas pop the lollipop out from between his lips. They were already become the color of the grape flavored sugar. 

“Yeah… I want to be a teacher, but my grandparents don’t really want me to go in that direction so…?”

“So…?”

“Just gonna try it and then switch majors when they’re not really looking.”

Minho laughs. “But you still know what you want.”

“Kind of, I guess? But you know too.”

“What?”

“Its like… it’s a feeling.”

“A feeling?”

“Yeah, you just kind of know. You might have to search a little but what you want is right in front of your eyes. Just tuned it out.”

“I’m not following.”

“It’s like..” Thomas gestures in the air, lollipop almost twirling out from his slim fingers. “It’s like how you always can see your nose, it's always in your line of vision, kinda, right? But our brain is like ‘you don’t need to see that!’ and blocks it out. You need to focus or really think about it in order to see your nose in your line of vision without crossing your eyes.”

“Oh…”

“So… search for that feeling. The thing that doesn’t make you go cross eyed.”

“That’s good advice,” Minho compliments.

“Thank you!”

“Did Newt tell you that?”

“No, actually, thought of that one myself.”

Minho nods. “Impressive.”

“Right? Gosh, I’m so proud of myself. It’s that philosophy class I’ve been taking this semester.”

“Yeah, really getting to you.”

“Not enough to yield my love for Tony Stark though.”

“Gally really hates him?”

“Yeah he does.”

“So… hey…”

“Yeah?”

“My parents… they wanted to know if I should go to community college for a while. But that’s like, that’s messed up right?”

“What do you mean?”

“Like… we have all this money and I worked so hard to get through school here, that like… I really should decided on a school… right?”

“Wrong.”

“What?”

“Wrong. There’s nothing wrong with going to community college. Like every counselor in this school will tell you, and every other adult, its where you finish, not where you start. Besides, its smarter than throwing yourself into Yale level debt for the rest of your life. Or stanford or wherever.”

“So… you don’t think it's dumb, or shameful or something?”

“Nope.” Thomas shrugs, the two quietly sucking on their lollipops awhile. “You know what the right thing to do is. Do what feels right, Minho.” 

Minho nods, swallowing the dissolved sugar. “Yeah… thanks buddy.”

“Anytime, friend.” 

\---

Memorial day weekend, him and his parents were sitting down to dinner in person. It was awfully quiet as they looked at their menus, Minho’s stomach bursting with sick butterflies. 

“I think I want to do the community college thing,” Minho says, just quiet enough and both his parents look up and nod. 

“Okay. So we can apply this weekend,” His mom says before smiling. “It’s not going to cost much, we can always transfer you when you know what you want.”

“Really?” Minho asks, still holding his breath and she takes his hand, nodding.

“Really, you’re working yourself up too much darling. The one near the house has a great track team to, so you can keep running if you wanted.”

Minho nods, feeling a bit more sure than he was before. There was, in some way, a light in the dark, just the slightest bit of hope for his future. “I’m sure. This is what I want.” 

“Good, now let's order an appetizer, shall we?” his father says, smiling. “I say sushi.”

His mom makes a face. “How about breadsticks.”

“Mozzarella sticks,” Minho offers and his dad shakes his head. 

“So  _ non traditional _ .”

They laugh, but as per their requests, they get breadsticks and mozzarella sticks for the appetizer, and continue searching for their main courses. Minho feels his chest lift with relief, finally able to breathe, butterflies melting away. 

“Thank you,” he says after a while, his parents looking confused. “For understanding.”

“Of course, darling. Me and your mother came here to this country with nothing and not a clue with what we wanted to do or be or even think. Everything was so different. We want you to know what you want, to be comfortable. Life’s a knot you have to untie, you don’t just figure it out.”

His mother nods in agreement. “And we’re here to help you untie it. Its what parents do best.”

“It still means a lot ot me…” 

“And we appreciate that.”

“Always,” his father agrees. 

They both take Minho's hand and smile. “Now, before we order dinner, I set you up with a girl from church this weekend.”

“ _ Mom _ !”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Second to last ending note, that's so sad!!  
> I just want to share a few things with you! I am currently writing a fantasy/horror/historical fiction series that I would like to publish in the near future hopefully?? SO that's really exciting for me. Its based around a magic universe I've been creating and a story I've been forming in my head for the past four years.  
> I've had some crazy ups and downs in terms of my anxiety and mental health, but I think I'm doing better now that finals and school are finally over. So that's always fun. BUT through it I found this really amazing app, called the Calm app (lol you all probably have heard of it, there were some really WEIRD instagram ads for it like a year ago). I had like this really bad break some nights ago, and I just could not calm down, and a google search lead me to it, and like, it read me a bed time story y'all it was so nice.  
> I recently went to a few cons!! I went to book con and that was literally the best thing EVER!! my wee nerd heart was soaring the whole time. S/O to Bia who I met there IRL!! I definitely plan on going to bookcon again next year and hey, who knows! Maybe once I pop out a few books, I might just have a little kiosk of my own there.  
> I also went to the popsugar play/ground !!! That was soooo amazing I met Huda beauty who I love to death??? Seriously she's so amazing! She was so sweet and you know she's arab because she was perfumed to death (and okay i was SO not dressed to meet here, because it was like a workout/makeup kinda thing and y'all are all probably thinking "Amirah do you even like that stuff?" believe it or not your girl over here is a yoga HOE and i love makeup like to the end of my life okay??? I'm also on a lot of coffee rn so that's not new but I'm hyper and y'all its been like 6 months, we're comfortable now. You're all my best friends. We can talk like this! Anyways, I was in joggers and like a casual top and a cardigan with my blue palm tree hijab- fyi one of my faves especially when i tan- and she was like dressed to the next so that's that. I looked good in the pics tho!!!)  
> ALSO if you guys would want to see me do like an instagram live or something??? lmk my fan insta is waldenbeckboys just follow me and like comment on a picture or something that you're a stunner fan and like we can put together a thing?? Today I discovered the "Snow" app and just made a bunch of edits, so that insta is going to be active again (whoo!! I think!)   
> I really do love you guys so much and I really really appreciate all your lovely thoughts and comments!! please don't forget to leave a comment below, AND my inbox is always open, just go to waldenbeckboys.tumblr/ask and you know, I'm always there to listen to you, hear you out. Tell me how you've been! I'm your friend as much as any and I hope you guys have been okay <3  
> With the greatest love,  
> AME


	25. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Boys say goodbye before college

“Should I hang the cactus lights in my dorm room?” Thomas asks, letting them dangle around his neck and Newt laughs affectionately, pulling him in for a kiss by his shirt.

“Sure, makes a good first impression.”

“Really? You think so?”

“If your roommate is anything like you, then sure.”

Thomas smiles. “He’s not bad, from what I can tell. I really felt like I was looking for a new boyfriend.”

“Yeah, don’t. I’m letting you loose for 2 months, maybe a little more, not breaking up with you.”

Thomas laughs, finding Newt’s jealousy cute. He kisses his cheek and Newt hugs him. “We’re graduating tomorrow.”

“Yeah we are…” Newt agrees, the two swaying slowly. “I’m not really ready to leave… but also I’m itching to leave.”

“I get what you mean. I miss my brother though. He’s going to school in New York, where he lives now. We said we’d get a house up there, just for this summer.”

“Me and Sunny are going to tour Europe.”

“Alone?”

“Yeah, why?”

“I don’t know, just seems like something big to do without your family.”

“We feel like we’re all we have, you know? Besides my mom would just ruin it.”

Thomas nods, Minho walking in. “Are you in the middle of something?”

“Yeah, we just had sex,” Newt taunts and Minho rolls his eyes. 

“Gross.”

“What happened with Brenda?”

He shrugs. “We agreed that it wasn’t going to work out,” Minho says. “We’re going to be going two totally separate places, and she has big ambitions, I’ll only hold her back.”

The two pull apart and open their arms for Minho to join, Minho burying his neck in Newt’s neck, and Newt just holds him there. “It’s okay. You should come with me this summer. To Europe.”

“Why?”

“Keep your mind off things.”

He looks to Thomas, who shrugs. “I have a brother to see,” Thomas says, showing no signs of jealousy. “Unless you love me more and want to come to New York with me.”

“Fat chance, Tommo.”

Newt laughs, nudging Minho. “Tommo?”

“You claimed Tommy and Theresa claimed Tom! I’m claiming Tommo. Like Louis from One Direction but not as hot.” 

“Hey!” 

“He’s right, babe,” Newt agrees. “Louis Tomlinson is hotter than the inside of a hot pocket. You can’t even deny, you had the biggest crush on him like two years ago.”

Thomas sighs. “Yeah but you’re supposed to be like ‘no babe, you’re the hottest.’”

Newt shrugs. “No babe, you’re the hottest.”

Minho chortles at Newt’s deadfaced recitation and Thomas shakes his head disappointed. “Nooow kiss.” The two lean in and Minho pushes them apart. “Not really.”

“Boo you whore.”

They don’t really want to think about how this is the last time they might share a moment like this, the three of them together, in this school. Funny how every second they spent here, they wanted to get out, and now that they were leaving, they didn’t want to go. 

It’s not long before the room is barren, boxes that are full of their things, suitcases that are packed. Storage boxes piled up. Pictures were taken down, beds were still in tact, until tomorrow after the ceremony. It’s late into the night, and they sit in bare silence, as if tomorrow was just another day. Nobody talks about how next week, a lot of them won’t ever see each other again. That this will all be distant. 

\---

Saying goodbye is perhaps the hardest part of any story. Of course, there are balloons and confetti and a lot of proud families, a lot of proud teachers. People who are so happy they finally made it. Some cried, some were beaming with joy, some were already headed back to the dorms to grab their stuff and go. Newt is with Sonya and their family, taking pictures under the balloon arch and well, everything was a rush. It was both the happiest day of his life, and the most stressful. 

The goodbyes are the worst part, that was when they all cried. He had neer hugged his friends so hard, and Newt, for what it was worth, felt like he had lost a great big piece of himself. The details escape him, because it all happened so fast. It felt like it was just 5 minutes ago that he had woken up, but it’s been 10 hours, and he’s been stumbling through the motions, rushing to pack, shipping off his things, getting ready, showering. THey had a rushed lunch, they were trying to meet their families before the ceremony. And it all came crashing down, to this big painful goodbye. Where everybody promised to stay in touch, wished the other a good summer, good luck in college. Thomas had kissed him goodbye, before leaving with his family, promises to see each other in the fall still stood. 

He and Minho stand the longest, just in the dorm, looking out the window. “I’m gonna fucking miss this place… isn’t that weird?” he whispers.

“Yeah… never thought I’d say that. It still sort of feels like we’ll be back in late august.”

“But we won’t be…”

“You’re right, we won’t be. And that’s okay… change can be good.”

Minho nods, the two standing still, and for a moment, the light shining through, and there was so much left to say, and yet it felt like they could never say it. There were so many spaces to fill, and so little time to fill it.

“Newt, let’s get going? We have to catch the plane to California,” his mother says, walking in. “To the vineyards?”

Newt nods, and looks to Minho. “I’ll see you in July, in Paris?”

“Definitely,” Minho says, squeezing his shoulder.

“Goodbye Minho.”

“Goodbye Newt.” 

They exchange sad smiles, and Newt finally goes, to find what might be good in life. And Minho was so proud of him, so proud of them. They had finally made it out of the maze that high school created. Everything had ended okay. Everything was okay, everything would be okay. Life was full of grand adventures, and now they just had to be willing to find it, as they stepped out of youth, and into adulthood. (It was a scary, scary thought, but leaving your past is the first part of discovering a brilliant future.) 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I know you must be thinking that this chapter was so short, and it started so strong with banter and then ended so bittersweet. But let me tell you something, I just graduated high school a few months ago, and I will, of course, in my authors note, talk a lot more about this, but I personally do not remember much of my graduation day, of the goodbyes that were said, of all the things that happened within that day. So to me, it felt natural to make the scene as... dreamy, hazy, melancholic as it's felt for me. The last of my friends have just left for college (At least the ones who were leaving have) and as I start classes next week, I finally am closing out a chapter of my life that I don't really know I was ever ready to close.   
> TBC in my authors note, but FOR THOSE OF YOU WHO DON'T READ IT- thank you for reading this story, thank you for taking the time to connect with me through a story we both understand, thank you for supporting me, thank you for loving my work. And thank you so much, for holding through, for being strong, and for being wonderful. You are all such incredible people, and I hope your journeys take you to the best of places, to do the best of things.   
> I especially want to thank Jo and Chloe for helping me through this year, for being the most amazing of friends, and for constantly encouraging me to keep this story going, and to keep writing, to not be so hard on myself.   
> Also, a big special thank you to Miles, who is just an amazing, supportive friend. He's always been great, and he's written such beautiful stories himself.   
> I WILL include a special preview of the series I am working on (To hopefully publish professionally) in the authors note, as like a ps / thank you thing.   
> With love,  
> Amirah


	26. The Authors Note

I remember so vividly when I was young, how my grandmother would put me down for a nap, and she would tell me in arabic, "khan fi ma khan, fill atheem al zaman-" which roughly translates to "once upon a time..." (directly, there once a was time, in the days of the old...) and tell me great stories, of our family overseas or of arabic fairytales. I often think of her house in Jordan, that she sold when I was about 8, because she didn't travel back to the country like she used to. There was a sort of small space, between the house and this big fence, where there was a sort of like, overhang that was drizzled with grapeleaves and honeysuckles, and the pathway was painted with vivid flowers, the greenest mosses and leaves you've ever seen. The stones were such a stunner looking grey, it was almost blue, and archaic. I remember the parties, that happened in the house, all the laughter that danced through the windows, and the music that drifted with the wind. The smell of mint tea. I find myself, for no reason at all, thinking of this house, as if I had spent a lot of time there, but the reality is, I hadn't. Though something about it lays so special to me, perhaps because maybe in a different world, this was the house I grew up in, rather than the house I really grew up in. 

The house I grew up in was also my grandmothers house, the same house my dad and his siblings grew up in. With great green grass, a great big pool. I remember when I was 8 my grandfather installed a fountain to the pool, and it gushed like those pools you see in movies. The magic of my childhood lay in azeema's, or gatherings, where everybody we knew was in the house. Summer evenings were tinted with the scent of mint from the garden swimming in the tea, and my aunt, who lives in Pennsylvania now talking about her fiance, and my uncle being loud as he walks in, and my mom making the hookah's with my youngest uncle, fighting about what flavor to put in it. 

you could hear my grandfather laughing with his brothers, when everybody was much healthier than, and his hair was still bright red, and my grandmother wasn't so depressed, and she smiled so brightly. My mom wasn't so tired, but my dad was, and he would always hold me and tell me that one day we'd be going big places. He's much happier now, he doesn't work 20 hours a day anymore, and my mom may be tired, but she's the greatest person I know. The strongest person I've ever met, and god, I only wish I could ever be like her. There is something so admirable about somebody who's been through the worst, and still comes out so beautifully. I strive to be as kind, as graceful, as loving as my mother, but yet as strong. My dad says I'm fragile, but my American grandmother says my palestinian blood makes me the greatest fighter, because just like her, I have a great sadness inside, but I still shine, just like she does. (And let me tell you, Tata Zouka is one of the most amazing women you will ever meet. There is nothing she hasn't done, nothing she can't do, no person that she can't love, no person she can't learn to love, and she is absolutely determined to make life love her as much as she loves it. She taught my mother how to make your emotions your strongest weapon, and she taught me how to be as bold as possible, even when I'm quite quiet.) 

The older I get, the more I appreciate the people who raised me. Who made me the undoubtedly determined young woman I am. I've always been told to be the hardest worker I could be, and so I've always worked. At first with my grandfather in his business until he shut down, and then I moved onto retail jobs, in Rite Aid, which was literally a living hell, and now in Trader Joes where I've met the greatest people, and created a small work family. I'm both happy where I am, but determined to move forward.

The problem lays in the fact that I have always doubted my abilities in life, and I've become easily uncertain of where I would go, and what I would do. So let's talk, let's talk about college, and lets' talk about life. Lets talk about Stunner, the story that I wrote when I myself was uncertain with my life. 

Senior year was the easiest year of high school academically, but mentally, it was almost as hard as Junior year. I wrote Stunner when I rekindled with Newt and his great sadness, how obvious it was to me that he was depressed, and how ignored it seemed to be in a lot of the works that I read in this fandom. (Now, it's not all of them, in fact, if you're really looking for more great Newt-Centric fics, please!! Check out Jo's Series [here](https://archiveofourown.org/series/1029308), it's absolutely incredible and tear jerking and much closer to canon. I can vouch for how hard she works to make these pieces accurate to canon, and tear jerking.) Stunner was for me, to create a world, where this character (Newt) Was much more in focus, and the parts of him that I understood were more actively present. 

Much like Newt, I dealt with my issues in private and alone. I even, often, isolated myself, and made my friendships scarce. not necessarily in a bad way, but I did diminish the friendships that were hurting me, or causing me stress, or just didn't feel right, and created a core group of friends that I could depend on. This was a hard thing to do, because a lot of the time, when you feel like you don't have many people, you feel alone, and I think that was something that Newt could relate to, especially as other people brought to his attention that they enjoyed his company. A lot of the time, these chapters were inspired by my own experiences, and there is a chapter or two inspired by my own deep, and rather painful conversations with people I'm close to about going to college, about what I want to do in life, if leaping for my ultimate dreams are worth it. 

Chapter 24 was Minho's chapter, where Minho was the character in focus. Strong, determined, straight faced Minho, sometimes crude but always loyal. Minho who always is certain but is really so afraid of the future, is exactly what I was going through these past few months. I'm still at a loss for my future. I want to go to the furthest of places, I want to do things, I want to do the most, I want to be the most, I want to come out on top, I want to make the people I love proud. I want to be the person that people are in awe of her, of what she's done, her work ethic, her creativity, her ability to do what she does in the best way possible, like nobody can compare. One of my managers says, that in this sense, I have a superwoman complex, where I want to do everything, and make it absolutely perfect. I guess it's not untrue, that to some extent part of my flaw is my desperation to be the best at everything I do. I often feel if I'm not, I've disappointed those around me. 

But, I guess, i'm only 18, and so therefore, I don't need everything figured out tomorrow. It's okay, that I don't have everything figured out. It's the most terrifying thing, but I guarantee you, that if you feel like nothing is certain, you're not alone. Nobody around you really knows where they're going or where life will take them. We really are different people every 7 years, so what interests you now, might not be it in a few years. 

This story has picked me up, and helped me make sense of the thoughts, emotions, and complications around me. It's helped me grow as a writer, and create something that was deeply apart of who I was at the time. I guess, in a way, I still feel quite lost. That to some bigger extent, I might never really find what makes me happy the way that being an author makes me happy. And you know what? Life is an adventure worth while. My dad has had every job there is to have, and so if next year I'm a real estate agent, and in a few years I'm a journalist, and maybe later in life, a babysitter or a business owner, or a barista at a coffee shop, or maybe at some point a mother, or at another a teacher, well I guess that's where life is bound to take us. 

Is life about the money? To an extent. Money does, afterall make the world go round, but overall, I think life is about the way you life. How authentically you live, how open you are to the experiences that you gain, the opportunities you take. And so, even if you don't really know where you're going, or what you're doing, well, you will figure it out. And it will change, probably. Of course it'll change. Life is ever changing, don't be afraid. In all cases of life, you will end out okay, and I genuinely believe that God doesn't give us any situation that we are incapable of handling. Realize your strength and conquer this whole world. You're going places, and I hope they're great places. Don't forget to smile, and go to a concert or two, buy that makeup palette you want, and overall, just live your life to the fullest. Do what makes you happy, find the things that make your life fulfilled. You're going to great.

Don't forget that I believe in you always. Thank you for being the best readers in the world. Thank you for ending this part of my journey with me. I love all of you, from the top of my heart, to the very last nerve in my my very last vein. You are the reason someone smiles, and for a long time, you all made me smile. I believe in you, above all. Don't forget to be kind, don't forget to do good in your life, don't forget to try your best. Eat a cake every now and again, I promise those calories don't mean as much as you think. 

With love, always,

Amirah M. E. 

(now that you've read all that!!! Sneak preview of my historical fantasy series, The Realm- that's a working title don't hold it against me okay? This is from Chapter 1, Enjoy!) 

 

The morning was young, fresh with a rising sun that casted soft blues and purples over the Polish sky. On the stove was a brewing pot of Willow Bark tea, the steam rising from the kettle. Bram smoothes out the sleeves to his white button up, adjusting the buttons on the sleeves, and then adjusts his high waisted (and very fashionable, he might add) pants as he waits for his tea to boil. Once he believes its ready, he turns it off to steep. 

Breakfast is often a leisurely affair for him; he strolls to the pantry and grabs the small glass jar that holds the almonds in it, and goes to place a handful in a bowl that he grabs from the cabinet. He follows up with some of the yogurt he had bought not a few days ago, hardly half a cup, and then grabs the container of blueberries to add them for taste, with a bit of honey drizzled on top. He sets the bowl on the table, before going to the cabinet left of the sink and grabbing a mug for his Willow Bark tea. He adds what was equivalent to a teaspoon and a half of honey to the bottom of the mug, and just lets the teaspoon rest there before capping the kettle and pouring the hot tea into the mug.

He watches as the honey becomes quite viscous in the tea, dissolving as he starts to stir it in, making the tea thick and sweet. The earthy, wintergreen smell is now tainted with a sweet aftertaste, the honey coloring it with a subtle, sugary afterscent. It was a scent he was now akin to, and rather familiar with now. He remembers hating the scent of willow bark when he first started making the tea in place of his usual coffee, but now it wasn’t a good morning without the scent of willow bark in the kitchen. He mixes his yogurt bowl together, and considers turning on the radio, but he doesn’t want to wake up Kasia and Mieczyslaw. 

He glances down to his wrists, adjusting the sleeve up to examin his veins. The odd, purple glow had faded long into the night, or at least, as far as he can remember it had faded before he had fallen asleep. He vaguely remembers staying up in his closet, reading a book, with the lamp light in there on, just waiting for the pain to pass, doing his best to bite back tears as it grew stronger and stronger before fading all together. It came in waves, and he found no viable solution to stop it. The book he was reading offered no genuine distraction.

 


	27. Art by Evekle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> THANK YOU TO EVE!! WHO MADE THESE ABSOLUTELY STUNNING WORKS OF ART FOR THE STORY  
> her tumblr is evekle.tumblr.com please be sure to check her out! They're absolutely beautiful, she's absolutely multifaceted talented, a wonderful artist, great writer, lovely friend, and such a genuine and sweet person.   
> IF any of you have anything else you want to contribute I will change the title of this, and add it as like a "Tribute" page I guess? Totally open to anything y'all want to send: art, letters, etc. Feel free to submit them to me on tumblr: waldenbeckboys.tumblr.com/submit and I will insert the images here on the page.  
> once again BIG THANK YOU TO EVE for this!!

 

 


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